


Kiss me, take my breath away

by Jessica_not_Jones



Series: DC  Siren Waterworks AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe- Merfolk, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily Feels, Biting, Blood Drinking, Body Language, Claiming, Drama & Romance, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Grooming, Intersex, Language Barrier, Lex Luthor must die, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mermaid Sex, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mpreg, NSFW, Sadism, Sailor!Clark, Scent Marking, Sea Magic, Sea-longing, Side Relationships - Freeform, Siren song, Siren!Bruce, Sirens, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, can't really explain it, courting, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_not_Jones/pseuds/Jessica_not_Jones
Summary: There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous she beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.ORThe siren!Bruce and sailor!Clark au that nobody asked for. (Now with Fanart)





	1. Nice to meet ya

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owls_and_horses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owls_and_horses/gifts), [Katie_Barton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Barton/gifts).



> I was going through a lot of mermaid fics lately and really wanted to write one, and I don't think there are enough superbat mermaid fics out there, but I'm really going to try my best to keep writing for tags like these! Check me on tumblr at stxr-jubilee.tumblr.com :) Enjoy!

 

Looking over the side of his boat, the light glinted off the water, making it resemble a green or turquoise colour from one angle, or bluish grey from another. The water could be deceiving, and that was the first lesson Jonathan had taught Clark of the ocean. They used to spend hours out on the seas of coast side Metropolis, fishing, sailing, star gazing or just talking. Sometimes being on the sea made Clark miss him so much that it hurt; a sharp pain in his heart that would ebb for a while then go away temporarily.

Over the years, he found it harder to forget about everything- and he sometimes woke up in a cold sweat hearing his father’s voice as he fell overboard- but Clark decided to leave his ghosts in Metropolis, still opting to take his father’s catamaran and go on a sailing expedition, hoping that the sea could either fix his aching heart, or take it with her. He had been on the seas for two years and seven months, and would send a letter to his mother Martha at every port he stopped in.

The first few months, he travelled around South America, before heading to Africa, and spent time with tribes near the coast, learning to speak Xhosa and Swahili. Clark became so enamored with the sea and everything with it, and was sad to have to head home, but there were things that needed his attention in Metropolis. His mother would need him sooner than later, and though he would miss the sea, Clark set course from Russia to return home.

-

Two weeks later, and Clark is approximately five days travel from Metropolis. He took a while to say goodbye to his new Russian friends and to collect all his belongings, as well as arrange supplies for his journey, but his mother was expecting him home approximately a month thereupon her letter, so he was making good time. He adjusts his sails and heads inside for a nap. The weather is nice, but he’d tired himself out a bit from keeping the ship steady through heavy waves the night before.

When Clark wakes up, it’s to his the sound of his own screams. It was just another bad dream. It was always the same thing- Jonathan falling over the hull of the S.S. Krypton, which had been destroyed with the storm.

The S.S. Krypton was the ship he had been born on, and it had been owned by his birth parents before they died, leaving Clark to be adopted by the Kents. When the storm came, he had only been eight years old, and it was by God’s good grace he had managed to hold on to a floating brandy barrel; still -he had watched as his father struggled to stay afloat, and eventually got pulled down with the suction of the sinking ship, too obstructed by debris to help.

Clark often saw Jonathan’s face in his dreams, and could vividly remember his blue eyes, and greying hair, with the last wan smile he gave before he stopped kicking and starting sinking. The dreams happened less often when he was at sea, but once he was on land, they became hell, plaguing his mind and poisoning his sleep. It was for this sole reason he started his sailing expedition, hoping to gain peace by taking his father’s catamaran around the world, hoping that once he fulfilled is father’s wishes of seeing all the sea, his soul might finally rest in peace.

Clark sits up on his cot, rubbing his face to get the sleep out of his eyes, and walks out of the cabin to see that it’s mid-afternoon. He decides he’ll go for a swim rather than use up his clean water, and it really shouldn’t be too cold anyways. His coordinates says he’s about ten miles west of Gotham Bay, and he immediately sets out to drop anchor, not wanting to get any closer to those waters than need be. He’s not superstitious, but when even the most stoic people tell you to keep your vessel from those waters, you listen.

Old sailors on the pier in Metropolis told tales of sea monsters lurking those water, and old witches who lay curses in the coves, and honestly, Clark doesn’t believe any of it. Logically, there is a bit of truth to all the rumors. Almost everyone knows that there were Spanish ships that crashed in Gotham Bay years ago, so the gold must be what lures foolish men into the water where they could either get trapped in rock clusters or drown, not ridiculous ‘sea monsters’.

The ‘cursed coves’ that caused shipwrecks were clearly just jagged cliff terrain wrecking the ships, because of men’s haphazard sailing in tight spaces that gave the illusion of being big enough for a ship to pass.  

When he’s dropped his anchor and secured it well, Clark changes into his rash guard and board shorts and heads out for a swim. With his mask on, he leisurely swims through the water, not particularly worried because they don’t have predators in these waters at this time of year. Even the barracuda had migrated, leaving behind the much more docile creatures like manta rays, dolphins, turtles, and manatees. A school of fish swam past him, and he pauses to watch them, utterly fascinated.

He knows this area pretty well, and it’s only a three mile swim on average around this rock cluster to get to Oracle isle, plus he hasn’t been there since he was a kid.

-

Oracle isle is just like he remembers it. Palm trees and boulder ridden sands, with goddamn seaweed everywhere. Clark still loves it. The shore is littered with shiny stones, colorful coral and several varieties of sea shells. With almost child-like glee, he starts gathering some up, intending to take them for his mother. The sun is less hot now, and Clark decides to make his way around the first island, trying not to get too far from the catamaran. He continues to collect all sorts of sea shells that his mother would love for their sea shell bowl in the veranda, and he’s really starting to miss her.

Clark doesn’t realize just how late it’s gotten until the sun is almost down. He turns around in a frenzy trying to find something to put his goodies in, but realizes he’s without a bag. Something splashes off to his right before a small fishing net happens to land on his foot. He looks over, but sees nothing suspicious, and quickly shoves the assorted items in the net, before tying the net sideways on his waist and making his way back to the catamaran.

The sailor is half way up onto the boat when he sees something. There was definitely flash of something dark in his left peripheral. Whatever that thing is, it’s relatively big alright. Clark almost feels like he’s being watched, and it’s making him very, _very_ , uncomfortable.

“Get a grip, Clark. Nothing is watching you.”

-

Bruce is watching the human. He’s been watching him since he arrived fourteen miles west of Gotham Bay, tracking the vibrations of the engine towards the disturbance. Most sailors never even sail this close to his territory, seeing as he has built a reputation for himself, but this one is different. He isn’t a fisherman, because he lays no nets. He isn’t a soldier because he bears no weapon. He just appears to be a lone sailor.

Bruce cannot see him very well from under the water, but he doesn’t dare get any closer to the surface where he could expose himself. He was born to be a warrior siren, and as such his tail will not blend in with the bay. It is much darker, and will stand out against the light water and off white rock. 

The man appears to have a somewhat large build, despite being a bit blurry, and is dark haired like himself. The siren is curious, but cautious, and trails his target from a distance. The man enters the water, and for the first time, Bruce gets a look at him properly. For the first time in a long time, Bruce is stunned. The human is very attractive. He is in prime condition, with a well trained physique that he lingers on too long, and he can swim almost as well as a siren, though most certainly not as fast.

His hair is black like squid ink, and his eyes are a clear blue like the zoanthids below them. He glides through the water more gracefully than the other bumbling men, who have met their slow, watery deaths here. The human wears some sort of protective armor against his skin, but it is light weight and nicely fitted to display his well built muscles, almost like something a siren would wear to attract a mate. Bruce thinks it is something like a courting dance tunic his mother would have made for him, were he not the last of his clan.

 

The sea dweller curls further behind his coral patch as the human draws nearer, but then changes course.  From the looks of it, he will be headed to Oracle’s isle. There are jellyfish that way though, and Bruce swims ahead with a burst of speed to get rid of them. He thinks it would be a shame to see the pretty human get hurt.

-

When the human gets to Oracle isle, he stays on the first island, and spends his time collecting things. A variety of seashells, stones and coral goes into a pile, and Bruce watches as the man smiles at his collection. The siren notices the sun is going down, and doesn’t understand why the man is taking so long. Does he not plan to go back to his vessel? Does he not know that there are creatures in the isles that could harm him after dark?

After a few minutes, Bruce realizes the foolish human has no way to carry back his trinkets with him, and rolls his eyes exasperatedly. He swims down to the sea bed looking for something useful, and finds a small, abandoned fishing net. Sirens detest nets, having found countless creatures in their territory get caught in them, but Bruce figures it would assist the human better than leaving it on the ocean floor to hurt some innocent sea dweller.

Making sure that the man’s back is turned, Bruce swims as close to the surface as he dares, then throws the net onto the sand as hard as he can. He ducks back under the water quickly; blending in with some wreckage to his left and waits till the human is a good distance ahead of him, and then follows slowly, knowing that he can’t swim fast with the weight of the shells anyways.

When they are nearing the ship, there aren’t any more hiding places for Bruce, but he’s rather fond of the silly human, and doesn’t want to go back under the waves. He instead does the craziest thing ever, and swims behind the human, heading towards the starboard side of the ship, to see what he does next.

The blue eyed man looks in his direction as he boards his boat, and Bruce dives lower beyond his sight, knowing he’s already been spotted. This makes the siren just a little reckless, and he surfaces for a bit, keeping his eyes on the male human, watching as he peels off his water armor.

The man shakes his head, and appears to be speaking to himself when he says, “Get a grip, Clark. Nothing is watching you.” His given name is Clark then? _It’s beautiful_ , Bruce thinks.

He keep his eyes on the man as he fixes his sail, and to keep up with the boat is nothing more than a slow gait for Bruce, because a Siren of his stature can swim as fast as 35-45 knots with extreme strength. The human sets a leisurely 15 knots, so the half-fish is barely batting an eye to keep up with him.

He doesn’t even register how far past the bay he’s gone, but it’s too late because before he can see it clearly, his tail gets tangled in stray nylon fishing net, and he’s definitely trapped.

He starts to thrash about, not caring what attention he attracts to himself, because he needs to get out of this thing _now_. His tail starts beating against the starboard side of the vessel, and he registers the sound of the engine shutting off, and he starts thrashing even more because he _cannot_ let himself be seen.

-

Clark is making good headway past Gotham Bay now, ensuring that whatever the sea fish was wasn’t following him. He’s making his way through the fishing zone near Coast City when something big starts thrashing against the catamaran, not threatening to topple him, but shaking the boat fiercely.

He makes his way over to the rails to see what it is, and his mouth hangs open in shock; because trapped against the side of his boat is a nine foot long creature, with the upper body of a man, and the tail of a fish. If Clark didn’t think he was losing it, he’d say he found a mermaid.


	2. Guess this is Goodbye

Clark is definitely losing it. There is no way in hell he found a mermaid- well it’s a male so a merman- by his boat. He watches as the creature splashes around in the netting, clearly hurting himself as he bangs against the ship. 

“Hold on, you have to stop thrashing around, or you’re going to hurt yourself.”

The half fish stops thrashing, but wriggles his tail a bit, clearly to keep somewhat afloat. 

“I’m going to get something to help you get out of the net, but you have to stay calm, okay?”

The merman seems to understand, so Clark slowly pulls out the switchblade from his board shorts, but as soon as the light hits the gleaming metal, the merman starts to hiss and bare some very terrifying fangs. His eyes glow a lambent blue, and the brightness of it is a little disturbing.

“I’m not going to hurt you! I’m just going to cut the net, I swear.”  
He puts on his most sincere expression, hoping the sea dweller will believe him and relax. The merman still has his fangs elongated but doesn’t appear to want to maim Clark, so with a steady and quick dive, he jumps overboard, and surfaces next to the half fish. 

“I’m going to bring the knife close to the net, but I won’t touch you with it, okay?”

The merman doesn’t look pleased with this idea, but at the same time, he’s not hissing like a cat anymore either. He takes a somewhat shaky hand and starts cutting the net, taking care to avoid touching the fish tail. When he’s spent at least four minutes cutting through the net, the merman does a complex twist, and manages to get out of the encumbering trap. He makes a trilling noise, akin to an angry dolphin, and swims a little distance away. Did Clark do something wrong? He holds up his hand in surrender, and the merman just hisses again. Oh- the knife, Clark realises. He doesn’t like the knife. Clark throws the knife back onto the boat with a well aimed throw, and realises that was probably a bad idea. He’s defenceless against a potentially hostile merman, who could most definitely drown him and eat him for lunch if those fangs were anything to go by.  
Great idea Kent, he chastises himself. The merman is clearly thinking along the same lines, because he starts swimming closer, with a new sense of bravado now that his only available weapon is gone. 

Clark vaguely recognises his movements as swimming backwards to get away from the approaching creature, but his back hits the boat, and he has nowhere to go as the creature is up close in a heartbeat.  
For the first time, he gets a look at the merman up close. He has slightly wavy, albeit wet, dark hair. His eyes are blue with a ring of light brown on the inside; paired with long feathery lashes that Clark only notices because he is very, very close. At the same time, he realises he doesn’t mind it at all; and that notion is what scares him most about the whole encounter. 

The merman brings his hand up to touch Clark's face, brushing his one curl out of his eye, and dragging his hand down his cheek. There is barely an inch between them, and the touches are almost reverent, as though he’s never seen a human up close before. Chances are he hasn’t.  
The merman whispers something in a foreign language, and it sounds almost like a prayer, before there’s a pair of lips against his own. He doesn’t move. At first he focuses on a tingling sensation in his lips that he definitely never felt before, and then he feels guilty because Lois is back home and she said she’d wait on him and- it’s over that quickly.  
Clark is feeling a strange mix of relief, elation and disappointment. The merman’s head snaps up, and it’s clear he hears something Clark doesn’t. 

“There are fishermen coming this way to clear their nets. They won’t be pleased that you’ve cut them.”

Clark is mesmerised by his voice, and it’s almost as if he feels a tug on his soul as he listens to it. He of course, puts his foot in his mouth the minute he opens it.

“You can talk?” 

“It is a special ability all sirens have. We can learn the language of another through the act of kissing.”

“Oh- that’s what that was about.” He tried not to let the disappointment waver in his voice, but he clearly failed. Not like some mystical creature would actually want to kiss him anyways.

“What else would it be Kent?” This is paired with a tired eye roll, and Clark is glad to know that eye rolls are a universal sign of exasperation.

He pauses for a second, realizing he’s just been sassed by a siren, but instead of giving a snappy comeback he just has another query.

“How do you know my name?” 

“Enough questions, get back on your vessel, and find some excuse that doesn’t include a siren when you tell the fishermen about the state of their nets.”

Clark feels a warm sensation wash over him, and he feels overly compelled to listen to a creature that shouldn’t even exist.

“Okay. Will I ever see you again?” 

A strange cold and heavy feeling fills his guts at the thought of never seeing the beautiful siren again. Perhaps he could get another kiss? Wait no- Lois is home for him. The man suddenly feels very conflicted about where his heart is set, but he’s pretty sure the sea creature has something to do with it.

“What are you doing to me?”

There is a sigh and a pause before the half fish reluctantly answers.

“It’s the siren call. It draws creatures of all natures to me. It’s meant for attracting a mate or prey. You feel unusually connected to me, yes?”

Yes- but can you please explain the part about prey?”

“I can use a particular noise to attract a particular creature should I be hungry.”  
“So you want to eat me?” Clark knows the terror is leaking into his voice, but he can’t help it. 

“If I wanted to eat you Kent, I’d be on your liver by now. I only eat trespassers.” 

“Trespassers? Like the people who go to Gotham Bay?”

“Precisely, and I don’t appreciate filthy humans trawling their nets in my territory. I believe I’ve made myself clear enough over the years. I protect those in my territory, and I don’t believe letting them become someone’s dinner fits that description.”

“I’m sorry.” Clark doesn’t even know why he’s apologizing. Something in him can’t stand to hear the siren upset. 

“It’s not your fault Kent. It will be your fault if those fishermen catch sight of me though.”

He doesn’t want to the merman to leave, but he also knows he won’t be safe if those men get any closer.

“Where will you go?”

“Back to Gotham Bay; I have subjects to protect, Kent.”

“I’ll never see you again, will I?”

“That is how it was meant to be. You think you care but I assure you, it is just the siren call. You must have a mate waiting on you somewhere. A siren and a human could never work either ways.”

“At least tell me your name before you go.” Clark knows he sounds desperate, but it's almost like he can't help it.

“I don’t think I can say such things above water. But I suppose a close equivalent of my birth name would be Bruce, in your language.”

Clark thinks the name suits him. 

“Good bye, Bruce.” There is a fondness, almost longing in his voice.

“Good bye, Clark.” There is a sprig of wistfulness, as though Bruce wishes he could stay too.  
-  
Bruce hates knives. When the human brings one near him, his first instinct is uncontrollable, and he knows his eyes are glowing as his canines elongate while he spits furiously. He feels overly uncomfortable as Clark cuts through the net, but waits patiently despite it.  
The minute there is enough room for him to maneuver himself out; he does a barrel twist, and curls himself out of the net elegantly. The man still has the knife in his hand, and Bruce swims away to distance himself far from it. 

Clark raises his arms, and Bruce, who immediately sees an act of aggression- having been raised to be wary of land dwellers-starts hissing menacingly again. Why won’t he put down the knife? Does he mean to harm Bruce? Does he not know the siren can easily crush him with his tail alone?  
Clark looks at the knife, and then throws it onto his boat. That was probably his best idea. It was unwise to threaten a siren of any stature. Such things usually resulted in violent death; not that Bruce wanted to kill Clark. He was too pretty to kill anyways, not that he would admit it. 

Of course, he could do anything he wants with Clark now. They were in his element, and there was no way a human could out maneuver him in the water. Bruce slowly starts swimming towards the man, not sure of what his own intents were, but knowing that he wanted him.  
The silly human starts moving backwards, trapping himself against the stern of his vessel, and Bruce holds back a laugh. He jets forward, and is wonderfully close to Clark now, memorising the strong cut of his jaw, the way his eyes look like pools of Caribbean water and how his full lips are slightly parted; a pretty shade of pink that he’d like to explore.  
He can tell Clark is looking at him; really looking at him, and resists the urge to preen. 

He doesn’t have any standards to compare himself to, but Bruce likes to think he is a handsome siren. He is utterly transfixed on the human, and really such dull, frail creatures should not be allowed to look this enticing, but he can’t help himself.  
He moves a stray lock of hair out of Clark’s face, and runs his hand over his cheek, noticing that humans have thinner skin than sirens. He whispers beautiful, and the words curl off his tongue in his native language, before he presses his lips against Clarks. 

He feels the magic transferring a world of knowledge into him- a tingling and warm sensation in his skull- and he suddenly remembers why he never kissed humans before. He never had the need to learn their language.  
A first time for everything, he supposes.  
-  
Bruce doesn’t want to leave. He knows it’s simply his nature that has Clark drawn to him, but he can’t help but want to keep him. He knows it’s irrational, and that the human probably has a mate and that their relationship would be unnatural, but he can’t help but think of what life might be like if he courted Clark; if they were to become mates.  
He doesn’t register that he’s pouring more essence into his voice until he sees the human’s eyes glazing over.

“I’ll never see you again, will I?”

Bruce knows he’s most likely delusional, but he swears he detects a flicker of sadness in Clark’s voice. It couldn’t be though. The only thing that tethers him to Bruce is the call. He doesn’t care for him; not truly anyways.

“That is how it was meant to be. You think you care but I assure you, it is just the siren call. You must have a mate waiting on you somewhere. A siren and a human could never work either ways.”

He knows that is not true, because he could very well carry Clark’s children to term, and he could spend up to a week on land before he would need to shift, but that’s not something Clark needs to hear right now.

“At least tell me your name before you go.”

When Bruce thinks about it, his true is not something human enunciation would have terminology for. Such things simply needed hydrodynamics to sound right. 

“I don’t think I can say such things above water. But I suppose a close equivalent of my birth name would be Bruce, in your language.”

“Good bye, Bruce.” 

The siren purposefully doesn’t look him in the eyes, but instead turns around, bringing his tail up for measure before he says his farewells.

“Good bye, Clark.” 

He begins the swim back to Gotham Bay, leaving nothing but the shadow of black scales and failed dreams.


	3. Come hell or high water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bruce gets some visitors, he hears news of a storm. Will he choose to protect Gotham bay from potential predators in the area or save his human saviour whose ship might not make it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise a lot of you are pushing for updates, so I'm trying to make them as fast as I can. I feel like this story might be in it for the long run, so I hope you guys like it.

Clark doesn’t move for a while.

He just stays there, floating in the water and feeling as though he’s coming down from a high. It’s as though the further away Bruce goes, the more awareness he gets back. He watches wistfully as the last trace of the siren disappears, before even considering going back to his boat.If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the lingering of a kiss, thrumming with magic of the sea. It’s mildly disconcerting. He continues to tread water for a bit, before he hears the engine of a fast approaching boat. He sees a vessel, the S.S. Prince, and watches as it comes to a full turn, before halting next to his much smaller catamaran.

“You there! What’s your business with Coast City fishermen?”

Surprisingly, the captain appears to be a woman.

She has long blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and an expression that doesn’t seem to tolerate any crap. The way she carries herself seems to be akin to a Greek goddess while she observes him -wielding a menacingly sharp harpoon gun that is. Clark struggles for a bit, trying to think of a logical excuse that doesn’t involve sirens, because he knows Coast City people can be rather unforgiving, and he has no intents of ending up in the nut house. He takes a deep breath and answers.

“I was heading through these waters, going to the port to send a letter, before continuing on my trip back to Metropolis. There was a pelican stuck in your nets- drowning quickly from the looks of it. I had to cut him out I’m afraid. Why didn’t you get safety issued nets?”

“A lone sailor wants to give us fishing advice, ladies? That’s remarkable.”

The other women on the boat laughed at the gesture, some wiping tears from their eyes. What was remarkable about wanting to ensure animal safety? Maybe Clark was still sensitive to the subject after seeing Bruce get trapped in that net. Whether or not he’d admit it, the situation upset him more than he realised.

“We just trawl and throw out whatever doesn’t fit. I’ll strike you a deal. You don’t report us; we don’t run you through with a harpoon gun for ruining a prime net. Do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do, miss…?”

“Antiope, now you’d do well to get out of Amazon territory, sailor.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He quickly gets back to the hull, and gets his engine up and running at his fastest- 45 knots-before sailing in towards Central City. He still has a few days travel till he gets to Metropolis. The longest part of the journey really, would be the stretch near Bludhaven caverns. Those were the longest to navigate through, but he could manage it easily now. He’s well past Coast City when he decides to give the engine a rest. The sun is far past set now, and he’d never enjoyed sailing choppy waters in the dark. The sea was never particularly nice in the stretch between Coast City and Central City, but he’s passed the worst of it already. He decides to head in for the night, dropping anchor and stalling the engines, before lying down on his somewhat small bed in the cabin. He stares at the ceiling of the cabin for a while, noticing every crack in the beech wood, and the ceiling isn’t that interesting, so why is he staring at it? Mostly because he wants to stop thinking about black shining scales, glowing blue eyes, and unusually soft lips; but he can’t.

He knows he should be thinking of Lois- who’s been waiting for him for almost three years, and sent a barrage of letters-but there’s something about Bruce that he can’t shake off. The Adonis called it the siren call, but it felt like so much more than that. He could tell, because the call, to him, felt like a hot sensation in his stomach; a rope pulling him closer to Bruce- but this was different. This was a fuzzy, contented feeling- nothing like the withdrawal he felt as Bruce swam away. The only way he could think to describe it was as though the siren call was cocaine, but this was marijuana.

It was mellower, not as intense, and somewhat calming. As though his new found attachment to a theoretically non-existent creature was okay…in a way. You see, this is why Clark doesn’t contemplate on things. He closes his eyes-and remembers how Bruce looked at him before he kissed him, how he touched him like he was something to be cherished, how the water droplets hung off the tips of his eyelashes like a pin waiting to drop- and doesn’t feel an ounce of the guilt he knows he should as a committed man. Does it count as cheating if he didn’t initiate it? What if the other party wasn’t even human? He and Lois aren’t technically together either, right?

This is too confusing. Clark closes his eyes, willing away his semi-boner for the merman- who probably though he was a waste of a good lunch- and roughly grabs his pillow, intending to get some sleep, even if it killed him.

 

-

Bruce is not infatuated with a land dweller. Of course, it’s natural for a siren of his age to want a mate, but he’s not so far gone as to consider a human. That would be downright scandalous. He’s more than two thirds of the way back to Gotham Bay when he hears it.

Singing.

Not just any singing- siren singing. It sounds like a whole pod, but why would they be migrating to these waters? He never had visitors at this time of year. They are getting close, so he goes to approach them. “Where is the leader of the pod?” he asks, directing at a group of thirteen or fourteen sirens; all women. A blonde girl comes forward, looking much too young to be a leader, but sirens don’t age very quickly, so he’s not too sure.

“I’m Tamara, leader of Nightwave Pod. Who might you be?”

“Bruce, last of the clan of Arkham Waters.”

There is a collective gasp from all the women, and he bows his head in acknowledgement.

“Our condolences are with you, Bruce. We were migrating from Denice City, and heading back to Caribbean waters. We mean no intrusion on your territory.”

“I sense no threat. I merely came to greet visitors Lady Tamara. Do avoid Coast City waters if you fear the safety of your pod.”

“Thank you for the forewarning. We ought to seek shelter in Bludhaven, as there is a fast approaching storm. It will surely shake the ocean floors tonight.”

“Can a storm of such great magnitude truly occur in these waters? Are you sure?”

“Our youngest, Syrena, has a gift for premonition. She has already foreseen it.”

Bruce hopes he hasn’t gone as pale as he ought to, because he knows Clark is still on the water, and his catamaran couldn’t handle a storm like that.

“I hope you find safe travels then. I ought to get back to my own domain.” His voice is a little shakier than he intended, but clear all the same.

“Thank you, and may Triton shine glory on you.”

-

The minute the pod leaves, Bruce looks to the skies and sees the beginning of what looks like his worst nightmare. He’s torn between protecting his territory, and saving Clark. If he leaves Gotham Bay unattended, he could come back to meet it overrun with sharks-not that they could challenge him- but if he continued forward, Clark would surely crash and drown. It’s not a particularly hard choice after that, and Bruce does a neat dive off his perch, and starts swimming at top speed. At this rate, he may catch up to Clark within an hour or two. He pushes himself forward, avoiding coral patches and shark territories, while hoping Clark hadn’t turned off his engine. No such luck either. He couldn’t hear a vessel for miles- most of them probably docked due to the impending storm- and realised he might have to use sonar to find him. He slowed down, sending out a screeching echo, and waited for the reverb. Approximately 130 miles north east was a solitary boat on the waters, far off from Central City. Bruce knew those waters and they wouldn’t be particularly nice.

He continues swimming with as much vigour as he can, praying to all the deities of the sea that he gets there fast enough.

-

Clark wakes up to the ship rocking terribly, and torrential rain pounding on the cabin. He quickly throws on a shirt, and gets outside to lift anchor and get the catamaran out of this weather. When he gets outside, he can hardly keep his balance, and is wracked by wave after wave of water tossing the boat. He tries to calm his internal panic, because he usually avoided storm zones while sailing, and repeats his mantra to himself.

_You will not drown. You will not drown. You will not drown._

It’s easier to believe in mermaids.

Clark heads to the pulley to lift the anchor, and the gear isn’t working. That is just great. He rolls up his sleeves, and squints to keep the never ending spray of salt water out of his eyes, and starts pulling up the anchor manually. The anchor is a lot heavier than he thought it was. He pulls on the heavy linked chain, ignoring the cuts he gets from jagged metal, and focuses on keeping his grip against sea moss and slime that’s accumulated on the anchor. When he finally gets the anchor up, the waves start getting even bigger now, and it’s almost like he can hear the sea floor cracking, but he keeps heart, and heads to the engine, where to his chagrin- it won’t start. He pulls the gun, and lets it go, and the engine still will not start. He is utterly fucked.

-

Bruce tamps down on his internal panic as he gets closer to the ship, because the waters have gotten downright raucous now, and the catamaran is probably being tossed side to side like a child’s toy. He continues through the water, his night vision being well adjusted to the depth and darkness. He doesn’t even care that he’s surface swimming because there is no one around to see him anyways. When he gets to the catamaran, he sees Clark on deck, looking for the world of it like he’s having a panic attack while trying to start his engine, but he can’t get any closer because the ship is being wracked by fifteen foot waves in the centre of an eddy that will do no good for Bruce’s tail.

The siren knows he’s going to regret his next decision for while, but it’s the only way to save Clark’s life. If he stays on that boat, he’s going to go down with it, and Bruce may not be able to get him to the surface in time while swimming against the suction from a sinking ship. So knowing it’s his only choice, he opens his mouth and starts to sing.

 

-

Clark is struggling to breathe now, because this scenario is all too familiar, and he swears he sees his father on the deck screaming at him to go to the lifeboat. He keeps trying with the engines because opening the sails now would mean getting tossed windward and possibly tail ending the boat. He stops in his tracks, not even minding the constant barrage of hard hitting waves, because he hears the most enchanting voice that has him transfixed.

**_“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,_ **

**_Nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold,”_ **

He finds himself walking towards the voice, ignoring the alarms in his head screaming for him to get back to the engine, and get home to Metropolis. There is a burning feeling in his gut- as though someone is disembowelling him- but it cools a little more with every step he takes closer to the beautiful singing. He looks at the water, black and vengeful, and finds it looks rather appetising. He is willing to do anything to get closer to the angel whose voice floats over the waters and rings loudly through the storm.

**_“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be,_ **

**_Who love a jolly sailor, that ploughs the raging sea,”_ **

He watches the engine, watches the water, listens to then singing, and then makes his decision. In a split second, Clark is jumping overboard into the tossing waves, feeling freezing water against his skin; and thinking:

_I must_ _find that voice_.


	4. My heads under water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce rescues Clark from the storm, but what happens when he's challenged by another siren from Nightwave pod?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to update as quick as possible rn! Hope you enjoy!

The first thing Clark realises is that he is in shock.

The water is freezing, but he’s hearing the most beautiful voice singing to him. The singer was beckoning him closer with a melody of the sea, covering him in a warm embrace with their lyrics. He finds himself struggling against the water to get closer to the angelic voice, and he’s kicking to no avail- because waves keep pushing him back, and he hears a distinctive crack and groaning begins as the catamaran starts to crack in half. He keeps swimming, getting quite tired, and his eyes are burning from the salt in the water. He can barely breathe, but he’s too focused on finding the angel whose tune is keeping his head above water.

_**“Come to me Clark. You don’t want to disappoint me do you? You are doing so well.”** _

The voice is melodic and enticing and he continues to swim towards it, away from the boat. He gets far enough from the boat before it sinks, and he watches in a daze, as flotsam and jetsam swirl around as the last remnants of his father’s boat. His entrancement is momentarily broken. That ship was the last thing he’d owned of his father’s. His father; the man who he’d adored-whose memory would forever haunt him now, ensuring he’d never get another peaceful night of sleep again. He feels a pair of strong arms wrap around him, dragging him away from the scene of the wreckage and he starts to kick and wail like a child.

“No! Let me go, let me drown with it! I failed him!”

His voice is cracked and broken from in taking cold salt water, but he doesn’t care. He continues to scream and kick and cry hysterically, and in that moment, he doesn’t want to be saved. He wants to join his father in a watery grave because he’d failed him. He hadn’t taken the boat everywhere. He hadn’t given his father his best. He deserved to drown.

“Please,” he whimpers, hoping to get his rescuers sympathy, “Just let me drown.”

 

“Clark, look at me.” He manages to lift his head and sees Bruce looking back at him with concerned eyes. The rain is still pouring torrential, and they might be out of the crash zone for the waves, but the noise is like a lion in the background, but none of that is what Clark is focused on.

“You came back for me?” His voice sounds like someone ran him through with sandpaper, but he ignores it.

“It’s only fair that I save your life after you saved mine, Kent. Now wrap your arms around my neck. I’m going to get you to shelter.”

Clark’s throat is killing him, and he has dried tears on his face, but he nods twice, and allows Bruce to put him into a live saver from the catamaran wreckage. They are suddenly moving very fast, and it’s a tough battle between nausea and consciousness, but the sailor fights on, and watches as Bruce’s obsidian tail glides with powerful strokes, almost as long as his body. He starts to drift off a bit, and closes his eyes, wanting to forget everything. -

Bruce realises that halfway there Clark has fallen asleep, but there seems to be no real danger, so he continues speeding towards the nearest zone free from the storm, and of course that has to be Bludhaven caverns. He enters the complex chain of caves, and literally has to shake the sailor to get him awake.

“Kent! Get up.”

Clark looks like a mess, with bits of sea weed in his hair, bloodied hands, a torn shirt and what looks like a leech attached to his shoulder. If the word dishevelled had a grimy older cousin, this look was definitely it.

“Just get on the damn floor before you get pneumonia from being in the water.”

Clark complies; flopping onto the hard rocky surface and feeling himself on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Bruce?”

“What?”

“You won’t leave me here, right?”

“No. Go to sleep, Kent.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s no response. There is simply the calming lullaby of a tail lapping against water to put him to sleep.

 

-

Clark does not sleep well. His dreams are now a never ending repeat of his father’s death, but rather with him drowning instead. He sees crashing waves, and feels the water in his lungs, and it’s so real that he can’t breathe and- It starts again. Each repeat gets worse, with Jonathan’s cries getting more desperate, and his drowning taking even longer, while ice cold water pumps in his veins, but it’s as though he’s stuck in a time loop because he just can’t wake up. But in the back ground there’s a song on repeat, as he sinks to the ocean floor.

_**My heart is pierced by Cupid; I disdain all glittering gold,** _

_**Nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.** _

When he finally hits the ocean floor - his whole body turned numb from shock and every cell screaming for oxygen - he sees Bruce there singing and reaches out a hand for him. They are so close now, almost touching, before he hears Lois screaming and sees blood running from his ears-

He’s awake now.

But his reality is that the dream was less frightening than waking up; because he’s surrounded women with tails with glowing eyes.

 

-

When Bruce wakes up, Clark has death grip on his shoulder from where he was perched on a rock cluster, but he soon realises why. It would be awfully disturbing for a human to wake up surrounded by sirens.

“Bruce is this snack yours?” asks Tamara, watching Bruce curiously.

“He’s not a snack, Lady Tamara. He’s a sailor who saved my life. I was simply returning the favour before escorting him back to land.”

Another siren swims forward into the moonlight -a black haired one with a yellow tail and green eyes- and her tone drips with disdain when she speaks.

“I find it rather rude that you keep the human all for yourself as you have guests in your territory. Would it not be fair to share him? He would be a delicious meal I’m sure.”

Everything about her nature seems to get under his skin, and the notion of her even touching Clark is doing terrible things for his level of control. Bruce tells himself it’s just a protective instinct to keep his rescuer safe. She looks at Clark a bit too long, and he barely contains the guttural growl in his throat, because he knows that look. It’s downright predatory, and means no good for any human on the opposite end. The truth is he would much rather hide Clark away from the world when no man or woman could get to him, and adorn him with the most beautiful things the ocean has to offer, and court him like he would any other siren.

This notion makes Bruce red hot, and rather concerned at the same time.

“Allura, control yourself.”

“Why should I? Could a lone siren like him ever win a battle against our pod? He stands no chance, Tamara.”

Bruce feels the scales on the back of his neck rising, and his tail is flicking dangerously under the currents.

Tamara speaks again in a calm voice, “We wish no harm to him or his human and will not join you if you choose to challenge him. You know we do not present against males, Allura. It is against our law. If you are hungry, perhaps try some kelp or fish, sister?”

“It matters not to me; she will lose should she choose to fight me.” Bruce spits, eyes glowing menacingly.

“You dare challenge a general in Nightwave pod? If I should want your pathetic human, I will have him. I see no reason for you to defend those who raped and killed our kind for centuries.”

Allura’s fangs are out, and her eyes glow a neon green, and Bruce watches as her claws lengthen, though not as long as his.

“If you want him, you’re going to have to kill me first. I lay all claims to him, and declare him as mine. As penance for saving his life, his body belongs to me. ”

There are several gasps among the pod at the notion of him claiming a human, but he doesn’t care. His side gills have started fluttering rapidly now, and he knows he must look like the picture of ferocity with his body poised to attack. The rest of the pod had climbed out of the water, knowing full well that someone was going to die. Clark moves even further into the corner to get away from them, and Bruce hisses menacingly at anyone who gets too close.

He and Allura circle each other, both tensed to attack.

“You lay claim to a human? Are you so desperate for a mate that you would have even a land dweller? That’s just pathet-“

Bruce doesn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. He dives fangs first and sinks them into her neck. Allura throws him off with a little difficulty, but her neck is bleeding heavily, and their tails are swishing lightning fast as they exchange and block blows. She manages to claw his lower fin a bit, but he continues, locking her in a choke hold, and keeping her down as she tries to disembowel him with her claws. She’s hissing menacingly and spitting curses in their native tongue that should not be said above water. She bites his collar bone, successfully making him lose his grip and escapes the choke hold with mild trouble. She lunges to get at Clark- a picture of bared fangs, bleeding skin and a broken dorsal fin- but gets smacked straight back into the water with a powerful hit from Bruce’s tail.

She is beginning to slow down, and Bruce knows she’s losing too much blood to keep up with him. He lands blow after blow with his tail to slow her down, and when she makes her final lunge, he grabs her mid-air and the last thing she would have felt was a harsh crack. The rest of the pod slowly reenters the water with their heads down- a sign of submission- and Allura’s body is quickly gathered and arranged to be disposed.

“I apologise for her behaviour Bruce. Such is not the way of our pod, but Allura was always headstrong and tenacious. I assure you we mean no harm to your human, and do not seek to question your authority in your territory. The law of our pod states we do not challenge males, and I hope you know we intended no duel. I apologise for any harm she caused, Bruce.” said Tamara, looking far too ashamed for a crime she didn’t commit.

“There were no cruel intentions on your behalf so I see no threat. You and your pod have until morning to be gone. Tell any migrating pods that I claim the waters from Bludhaven Caverns to Gotham Bay. I want no trespassers."

“Thank you for allowing us refuge. We will not overstay our welcome.”

The pod was gone as fast as they came, and Bruce turns to Clark to see him trembling.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I’m terrified and freezing. How could you k-kill someone for m-me? You b-barely even know me.”

Bruce sighs.

“You’re right, I don’t know you. I do know you didn’t hesitate to rescue me from that net, when any other man would have captured me. I do know you’re strong enough to resist the lure of the siren call sometimes, and I do know you’re an honest man. My people have rules with these things, Kent. I owe you my life, so I have to protect yours. That also includes keeping you warm apparently.”

He swims over to the edge of the cavern floor, and picks up a dry melon sized rock, before whispering something and having it burst into flames. Clark scrambles back, eyes wide and looking between Bruce and the fire as though not believing his eyes.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“All sirens have abilities. Some have mental, physical or magical. I can create fire and not get burned.”

“That’s terrifying, and confusing because sea magic isn’t supposed to exist, but it’s also fascinating.”

“I could douse the fire you know. Gratitude goes a long way with my people.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Clark rubs his hands together trying to get them warm while Bruce swims lazy laps through the cavern and watches the sea rage from a distance. After an hour Bruce curls back up on his rock cluster and leaves most of his tail in the water so he doesn’t dry out. He falls asleep while listening to the crackling fire and Clark skipping rocks across the pool. He hopes he gets enough rest, because he’ll have to hunt in the morning to feed Clark and himself. Clark lies awake watching Bruce- observing the rise and fall of his chest, the way his tail flicks absent-mindedly while he sleeps, his lightly parted lips, the shallow open and close of his gills, how his hair fans into his face a bit- and wonders what saintly act he did in his past life to end up here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to @tiger-quollsartblog on tumblr for the fanart! Go see their blog [over here!](http://tiger-quollsartblog.tumblr.com/)


	5. I want you all for myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce does some inner reflection and realises that Clark might be the only potential mate he will ever have. He decides to court Clark in the traditional siren way, and eventually wins him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry if this update isn't as fast as normal, but I'm working without a laptop here so bear with me. I'm literally doing my updates on my smart TV with a shitty keyboard, but I won't leave you hanging. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

Bruce wakes up at sun rise by habit. He gets up off his perch and stretches, slipping back into the water to wake up his tail. His attention moves over to Clark, who is sleeping in a somewhat uncomfortable looking position, and has to stifle a laugh. There's drool running down the side of his face, and his hair is a bird's nest, and he's hugging a rock for a pillow, but he still manages to look so angelic and peaceful.

Bruce doesn't like it. So with a flick of his tail, he splashes cold morning water on Clark's sleeping figure, and the sailor wakes up with a jolt. 

 “What the hell, Bruce?"Clark is rubbing his eyes, and yawning adorably, but there are more important things to focus on damn it. 

"I'm going to hunt for food. What do you want?"

Clark is much too sleepy for this, and it is way too bright outside with the morning sun in his face. Didn't sirens know how to use their discretion?

"I'm not picky. Fish of any kind would be appreciated."

Bruce nods, and dives back under the water, disappearing into the current. His charcoal colored scales stand out against the green water, and Clark follows the shadow as far as forty meters out before he loses sight of him. 

He tries to make himself useful, but there isn't much he can he can do in the cavern beside play with the skates that swim by or wait for the sea dweller to return with food. It makes for a rather boring twenty minutes.

 He looks up at the ceiling laden with stalactites and squints as the rising sun filters through holes in the aged rock.

 When Bruce returns his arms are filled with two rainbow trout, driftwood, two shirts and a rash guard.

"Where did you get those from?" He asks, gesturing to the clothes.

"They were the last salvageable things from the wreckage. I hope they will suffice."

"Thank you. Any clothes are better than none I suppose."

Bruce sets the driftwood on the edge of the cavern floor and sets about starting another fire. Clark is watching in fascination and confounded, though not at the fire.

"You don't expect me to eat all of that, do you?" He's looking at one of the fish and feeling very uncomfortable because the poor guy is flopping about and seems to be looking right at him.

Bruce looks up at him with a curious expression.

"You don't like trout? I could get you something else. There is plenty of fish in the sea you know.”

Clark can’t help it. He tries to hold it in at first, because _really?_ He tries in vain and eventually bursts into hysterical laughter, falling back onto the floor of the cave gasping for air, and the siren is watching him as though he has two heads.

“Are you okay? I don’t understand what is so funny.”

Clark wipes the tears from his eyes and tries to explain it to Bruce simply.

“It’s just too much irony for me to handle. I promise, I’m not making fun of you, I swear. Just let me have this one inside joke.”

Bruce just watches him for a moment, but seems to go with it.

“So you will have the trout then?”

“Sure, but I really can’t eat all of that. I don’t tend to have _that_ big of an appetite. I mean look at this beast- it’s literally the size of my thigh, Bruce. I don’t think I can even finish one, and I have a serious peeve about wasting food.”

He gently picks up the second trout- the one that survived by flopping in the collected water at the edge of the floor- and puts it back in the water.

Bruce rolls his eyes, but passively watches the fish flee to safety.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I will finish for you then. Does that solve your problem?”

Clark nods and sets the fish on the little pyre-thing they have set up and he listens to the crackle as the scales fizzle and pop.

“I’ll be back in a while,” says Bruce, turning to go.

“Wait- where are you going?”

He knows he sounds a little frantic, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t exactly like the idea of being left alone in the cave after what happened the night before.

Bruce looks to the sky as though seeking some deity to help him deal with his insufferable human, and answers.

“There are springs of fresh water from the stalactites further into the caves. I am going to get something to collect water for you before you get dehydrated. I find it somewhat disturbing that I am more aware of your own biological functions than you, Clark.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, but just does a neat tuck and surges under the water, heading further away. It takes Clark a few moments to realize Bruce used his first name. It takes him a couple more to realize his tone was bordering a little past fondness.

Perhaps he was growing on Bruce?

-

Okay, so Clark was kind of growing on Bruce. Humans looked so strange while they sleep but Clark looked so beautiful with the morning light dancing through his hair. He hadn’t even realized how blue his eyes were until he saw them in daylight, but they were truly astonishing.

The realization had hit him hard and fast the night before; said realization was not good.

Clark was his only potential chance for a mate.

… But how does a siren woo a human?

Bruce thinks about it, and also goes looking for a large enough seashell to collect water for Clark in. Typically a male shows his ability to entertain and provide for their mate, and he thinks he’s done most of that. He gave Clark food, warmth, shelter- how could he be so slow?

Of all things to forget, he can’t believe himself. He hadn’t gotten Clark a gift. What could he possibly give to a human that would impress him anyways? Almost anything that would win a siren over would be seen as junk to a human. A starfish was too bland, and a small pearl wasn’t grand enough, while finding a large enough one would take far too long and a necklace would just seem too effeminate.

Maybe something from the ship wrecks? Humans were always trying to get to the sunken ships, though there was nothing there but measly gold and- of course.

He could get Clark something shiny and pretty from the ship wreck, but something that he would actually use.

He takes off to the nearest ship- the La Viriana- and hopes he finds something useful.

-

Bruce is fed up of searching after the first fifteen minutes. There is a lot of gold, but not a lot of much else. Anything paper based is ruined, and most metal would be useless. He continues searching until he finds a glass bottle. It seems simple, but inside of it are two rings with a strange pattern on it. It almost looks like an S, but he can’t be sure.

He picks it up anyways along with a stash of gold coins and hopes Clark likes them. The only thing left is to find a big sea shell to carry water in. Said task is easier said than done.

After about twenty minutes he finds it. It’s a huge queen conch with spindles of white, pink, coral and champagne colors striating it, and it ought to hold a nice amount of water to carry for Clark.

He smiles to himself when he finds it, and desperately prays that it’s well received because the sad but true facts are Bruce doesn’t have a pod to help him choose mating gifts. His mother isn’t here to make him a tunic to attract someone, his father isn’t here to teach him their pod’s mating dance, (though other the years he’s learned quite a few from other pods), Alfred isn’t here to give him the much needed confidence to help him win Clark’s affection.

He is on his own, and it is mildly terrifying.

-

Clark spends a long time waiting on Bruce. He’s cooked, eaten, done a half assed tidying up, and placed the remains of his fish on a pile of kelp, because he realizes that’s what Bruce seems to snack on when he’s bored.

He tries to keep himself occupied because boredom tends to do bad things to his head, but boredom seems inevitable. He tries skipping rocks, playing with passing sea creatures (none of interest really), counting stalactites, and eventually humming, but even he can tell it’s been more than an hour, and he sighs in exasperation.

“For Christ’s sake Bruce, where are you?”

There is no tell-tale splash before Bruce appears next to him, so the sudden reply jolts him.

“I’m right here, Clark.”

The human in question yelps in surprise, placing a hand over his chest to steady his pounding heart.

“Don’t do that!”

Bruce chuckles softly, offering the conch to Clark who takes it gladly, drinking all of the water in one sitting.

“Thirsty?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now though.  What took you so long?” He turns the shell in his hands, eyeing it appreciatively, because it really was gorgeous. It was nothing like the fake ones they cranked out it sea side stores.

Bruce places the bottle and the pouch on the floor, and watches Clark to gauge his reaction.

Clark’s eyes widen comically as he opens the pouch, looking at the glittering gold coins in it, and thumbing some of them to see if they were real.

“Wow, Bruce. I don’t know what to say. These are probably worth a lot of money… I wouldn’t even know where to pawn them. Thank you. What’s this?”

He looks at the bottle, and gasps.

“Bruce, where did you get these?”

He continues to stare at the two identical bands, and he knows his eyes are watering, but he doesn’t care. The rings look exactly like the ones his father wore in the family album. His biological family, that is.

 The rings bore the symbol of the house of El. He was so young when his parents died that he hardly remembered them, much less remembered seeing Jor-El’s ring up close, but now that he had he almost wanted to cry, because he was pretty sure this was the exact same design in the pictures, though these were silver, not gold.

He clutched the bottle tightly to his chest, not caring what Bruce thought of him, because he’d finally gotten something that would link him to his parents.

“Clark, are you okay?”

There he goes again with the calling him by his first name.

“I’m fine. I’m perfect. It’s just that the symbol on the rings- well it’s pretty special to me. It’s like my family symbol if that makes any sense.”

“Well that is understandable I suppose. Did I upset you by bringing them?”

“No, of course you didn’t’! Bruce- these are the most thoughtful things anyone has given me in my entire life. This is so amazing I could kiss you right now-“

He slaps his hand over his mouth before he could say any more. The following silence is deafening and Clark sort of wishes he could crawl in a hole and just die.

There is a comforting lull as Bruce’s tail sways in the water, and when Clark opens his eyes he sees the siren looking at him with an expectant expression.

“You can if you want to.”

“What?”

Bruce is looking up at him through his eye lashes with his perpetually wet hair falling across his face, and there is a running droplet of water on his neck that Clark would really like to taste.

“ ** _You can kiss me if you want to. I won’t bite, I promise._** ”

Bruce pours a little more of the allure into his voice than is strictly necessary, and Clark is leaning forward without realizing it. A wet hand touches his cheek, and soft lips press against his firmly but chastely in a sweet kiss, before Bruce whispers, “You are quite welcome Clark.”

“Bruce?”

Their foreheads are still pressed together as though they don’t want the moment to end, but the siren answers anyways.

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

There’s a beat before he gets an answer.

“You saved my life. I think we’re even.”

“What if I want to?” The siren is looking him straight in the eyes now, and it’s a heady sensation that causes Clark to lose focus, but he responds anyways, in what he hope is a coherent sentence.

“Want to what, Bruce?”

“What if I want to give you things just because? What if want to spoil you, and keep you to myself, and give you everything your heart desires because I can?”

Bruce knows when he gets attached he can’t exactly control the level of the call he uses, but he doesn’t exactly want to. He sees no need to give his human ample chance to leave either way.

Clark’s hands are still on his shoulders, and they begin to move over his arms, exploring the landscape of muscles.

“I might not be opposed to that, come to think of it. Why choose me of all people?”

“Last night Clark, I claimed you in front of a whole pod. I would not do that for just any human. It is a sign of the first stages of… mating courtship.”

“…you want to… court me?”

“If you will have me, then yes, I would.”

“What exactly does this courting entail?”

He’s being coy and annoying now, because there is no way he’s going to tell Bruce no to anything considering his capabilities, but he knows the siren will entertain his nonsense anyways.

“Well typically there is a lot of doting, and public claiming and provisional stasis and the mating dance and-“

“Did you say mating dance?” The look on his face is slightly intrigued, and the siren suddenly remembers that most of the dances he learned were…a little too erotic to show Clark just yet.

Bruce can’t help but redden a bit- and hopes that his hair hides it-but he replies anyways, “Yes, I did. Don’t worry -you don’t have to learn anything. I am required to perform it for you.”

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to see this then won’t I? It’s not every day I get to see something like that.”

“Do you accept my offer then?” his voice comes out softer than he intended, but still has the desired effect, because Clark smiles at him, moving his wet locks out of his face, and says,

“I don’t see any reason why not.”

 

Bruce does _not_ grin like a buffoon. Okay he does, but just a little bit. A teeny tiny bit.

 

(Clark thinks his smile is radiant enough to light up even the darkest parts of the ocean, but he won't say that yet. In terms of courting he clearly has some catching up to do.)

 


	6. We are meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce goes to hunt so he can feed himself and Clark, and while navigating the cave that they are in, cuts himself, attracting some unwanted predators. This causes some problems as you might imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been taking a while on this one and I'm SOOO SORRY guys, but my dad is in the hospital and I wasn't taking it too well because he has to have brain surgery. I hope you guys enjoy this one because I threw some SMUT up in here, so here ya go! You guys know I appreciate your comments and I reply to everyone one of them, so tell me what you think or check me on tumblr jessica-not-jones.tumblr.com

Clark is much happier over the next few days and Bruce can tell.

The siren even smiles laughs more and occasionally indulges Clark in a few unfair games of water tag, though he feels terribly nostalgic playing a game he from his childhood. He gets lost in his sailor’s joyous laughter and outraged squeals as he sneaks up under him from beneath the water, gripping him round the waist. Clark finds it somewhat unnerving that the phrase, “Tag you’re it,” becomes strangely erotic when Bruce whispers it to him. The sea dweller gets as close as he can to the human, and mutters it in his ears, nosing down the side of his neck and leaving chaste kisses as he goes. Clark lists this down to cultural differences and surmises that sirens must just be a tactile species, not that he has a problem. It’s hard to find anything a problem when he’s near Bruce. Their relationship becomes so domestic and feels so right that the human completely forgets he has a home to go to. As far as he is concerned, Bruce _is_ his home.

Bruce is his protector, his friend, and now his partner by some cosmic mix up in his favour. Clark is still wrapping his mind around having a siren for a boyfriend, though he doesn’t think Bruce would appreciate the term. Maybe he was a lover, or a significant other or something, but Bruce wasn’t the typical boyfriend material per say. Boyfriends went on dates and all that stuff, but he and Bruce stayed inside… sort of. Does a cave count as inside? Clark wasn’t too sure. He and Bruce were special, that much he was sure of. This wasn’t like him and Lois. He felt like he could be himself around the siren, with no pressure to be constantly perfect like some kind of superhero. He could just lie around all day, swim lazily, eat, play with the sea creatures and relax. It was like a vacation away from vacation. He is laying on the cave floor one evening when his stomach lets out an interestingly loud growl.

“You’re hungry.”

It’s not a question. Bruce has taken to spoiling him a bit, and truly he hadn’t thought he was hungry until his appetite reared its ugly head, ruining the blissful silence he and Bruce were sharing. The half fish wasn’t on of many words, but his silences spoke volumes.Just by his behaviours Clark could tell Bruce wasn’t even thinking, he was just relaxed – and serenity did not come easily to either of them as the past few nights of fitful sleep had taught them.

“What do you want to eat?”

Clark ponders for a moments, screwing up his nose a bit.

“Would I sound picky if I asked for squid?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t get it. It just means I might take a while. You’re hungry aren’t you? Perhaps choose something that resides a little closer?”

“I can wait. I’m really tired of fish and a man can only handle so much shrimp at a time.”

 

Bruce sighs but acquiesces with a, “If you’re certain. I can get you more water on my way back if you need it.”

It’s a simple offer, but Clark feels touched none the less.

“I think I have enough coconuts here, Bruce.”

Bruce looks balefully at the pile of coconuts he’d stoned down from Oracle isle. He knows it’s more than enough (dragging back a twenty pound net of coconuts was not good for hydrodynamics mind you), but he’s feeling the primal urge to ensure his mate is well cared for. Clark is an easy one to please, but that only makes Bruce want to try harder- be better - for him. Bruce knows at the end of the day he will never be equal to a human, so he will constantly have to make sure he is good enough for Clark, and the thought leaves lead in his stomach.

“Okay. I’ll be back in an hour maybe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

-

In hindsight, Clark should have realised this was a stupid idea, but he was bored okay? He only thought to take a swim through the caverns without Bruce because there was nothing else to do. He didn’t bother to strip down because he was already in board shorts and a rash guard, but he did put his foot in the water to see how cold it was. Satisfied that the water wasn’t too cold, he slid in quietly and made his way down the pathways of eroded rock and stalactites. The water rippled to his left, and a curious little skate nudged him in passing. He made his way past their spot and continued swimming leisurely for a few minutes, taking the time to really stretch his limbs and take in the surrounding scenery. There were some plants where the water was fresh- ferns and others like it- and near them were beautiful yellow flowers growing in the corners of the rock clusters.

He glided over to where the flowers were, thinking to collect some for Bruce as a surprise before he came back. As he stretched his hand forward into the little shrub of sea flowers, something dark and quick zipped out, biting his hand and high tailing it away.

_Shit_.

Even in mostly fresh water, a bite like that fucking hurt. Clark looked at his hand, and he could see a clearly defined bite mark on the fleshy part between his thumb and pointer finger. Blood flowed from it freely, tingeing the water pink as it spread. Not good at all. Clark puts his hand in his mouth, ignoring the metallic tang that he hates, and tries to swim one handed, kicking as fast as he can in hopes of getting back to his and Bruce’s cave- the only safe space for a good distance. A few minutes in, and he’s almost there when he hears a swishing noise- a noise not loud enough to be Bruce, but not quite soft enough to be the typical sea friend he’ll find in here. Clark veers left quickly, jumping onto a medium sized cluster of rocks barely big enough to stoop on. His grip is tight on the jagged land form, cutting into his hand even more, but he doesn’t care because right below him are a trio of tiger sharks who look particularly hungry- the worse part being he doesn’t know how long he can hold onto the slippery mossy rock.

The beasts look ravenous with baleful eyes looking at him, and lightly patterned skins. He can feel himself shaking, and a lesser man might have already peed himself by now. He holds on for dear life, but all Clark can think is _‘Bruce where are you?’_

 

-

Bruce is on his way back to the cave with Clark’s food when he smells it. The iron filled, addictive scent of blood in the water. It’s not any blood either- it’s human blood, Clark’s to be specific. He speeds his way back to the cave and Clark isn’t there. He panics for a moment, but calms himself. The sailor couldn’t have gotten very far. He knows something is wrong because he definitely wasn’t the only predator to smell that, and his human was not becoming fish food on his watch. He follows the smell far past their living quarters and sees Clark gripping a rock bunch, with a troupe of tiger sharks circling him menacingly. One of them lunges for Clark, missing by a fraction- and now he’s seeing red. “Bruce! Help me!” There’s terror in his eyes, and the siren is suddenly murderous.

Another dive for Clark, but Clark knocks the shark away with his good hand, narrowly avoiding getting bitten. Bruce is there in a heartbeat, gripping one of the sharks by the jaw, and slapping another away with a powerful lash of his tail. His snaps the shark’s jaw open, but doesn’t see the third shark as it slips past his defences, making a harsh bite below his dorsal fin. Two of them circle him now, smelling his blood in the water, but thankfully not focused on Clark anymore. He can still fight, but he knows he’s going to be in pain after this. He grabs the next shark mid dive, taking a chunk of its gills out with his teeth, and throwing it aside. He doesn’t have to watch to know its dying. He can picture the thrashing and eventual sinking behind his eyes. The last shark circles him slowly, gauging his reflexes, and when it tries a sharp turn, he grips it head and tail fin, breaking its spine over his shoulders- the snap making Clark flinch badly.

The life fades away from it as it twitches sadly, sinking to the bottom of the cave floor with its brethren. He’s breathing heavily and bleeding lightly, but he still looks at Clark deadpan. “I thought I said nothing stupid.” Clark actually blushes at that, looking at the water rather than at his mate.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s go. I might not be able to swim much further.”

-

As it turns out, Clark end up dragging Bruce a third of the way back, but he doesn’t care. They reach the cavern, and Bruce realises he’d forgotten to hunt in his haste to bring Clark his food.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“I don’t suppose you’d be inclined to share that squid?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The lilt in his voice is teasing none the less, but Bruce really is hungry. He pulls a bit of the young kelp growing on the edge of the rock, and chews it lazily, trying to ignore the pain from the shark bite.

“Are you okay?”

He needs to know that Clark is okay- it’s purely instinctive now to make sure his sailor is safe.

“I’m fine Bruce. I actually just got a small bite from something when I tried to pick-"

“Sea daisies? The little yellow ones?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Every siren pup knows to avoid those. Moray eels like to sleep in their shrubs. You usually get a nasty bite if you piss them off.”

“Well I guess you learn something new every day. How’s your tail?”

“Hurts like a bitch. I’ll be fine in a day or two though.”

Clark makes a surprised noise, because he didn’t know sirens healed so fast, but runs his hands through Bruce’s hair in a comforting manner while he sets about preparing the squid. He figures the ;east he could do is feed Bruce after he'd saved his life _again_.

-

They keep talking for a while- mainly to keep Bruce distracted- and the squid disappears with time.

“Bruce- look I really am sorry.”

“Clark, this is the twelfth time you’ve apologised in the last hour.”

“I know-but I should have listened to you. You got hurt because of me. What if you’d died?”

“I feel lightly insulted because it would take at least seven sharks to pin me, but I understand your worry. I can handle myself Clark, and it’s my job to protect you. A siren would quicker dishonour his pod than leave his mate unprotected. I need you to understand that. A bite is nothing to me.”

Clark takes a deep breath before responding. He doesn’t know how to tell Bruce he was scared. He was scared of losing him though they’d only been together a week. He can’t figure out a way to say that he was terrified that he’d never hear Bruce’s sarcastic jokes or his pealing laugh or his beautiful singing again.

“Bruce, I thought I was going to lose you. I saw blood and I got scared. I panicked because you were hurt and… I don’t know how to go back to my life without you. What I’m saying basically is… I love you.”

Bruce is looking at him with an expression that’s both halves awed and confounded.

“You really mean that don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”'

“It’s not the call either?”

“No, Bruce. I can tell the difference. This is something more. I can’t go back to humanity. Not without you.”

Bruce feels tears welling at the corners of his eyes, and he doesn’t fight them.

“But I’m not a female. I’m not human, I’m a-”

“You’re perfect. You’re different. You’re ridiculously beautiful, and somehow you’re mine.”

Clark leans forward, not wanting Bruce to move and he gently places his lips against the siren, cradling the other’s head in his hands. Bruce makes a light growling noise.

“Not a good idea to have your hand so close to my face right now, Clark.”

As he speaks his neck is moving of its own accord, following his lover’s hand as it moves away.

“Does it bother you?”

“No. But I’m having trouble ignoring my vested interest in licking your hand till the blood is gone. That might come off as disturbing.”

Clark considers it for a second before putting his palm back out. “You won’t bite right?” He asks, hesitating a bit.

The look on Bruce’s face is devilish when he responds, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bruce holds his hand, nosing between his fingers, getting a good smell of the blood there. It’s only a trickle really, more of somewhat thick line running down his arm -not life threatening by any means- but he’s utterly transfixed. The red liquid is viscous now that he’s not in the water any more- and the wound is crusted over. The siren darts his tongue out to taste it, revelling in the rich flavor that sea food lacks-a metallic salty tinge he’s addicted to- and drags his tongue up Clark's forearm a bit, lapping it up shamelessly.

He doesn’t think to mention that his saliva will heal the wound, but that’s because he’s focused on Clark. Clark whose eyes have gone dark, face flushed and heart beat fast. He can smell the arousal on him- not that Clark needs to know that. Clark makes a noise that’s simply obscene but he can’t focus on that while he’s in frenzy. He noses over the trail again, memorising the spot where the blood was and looking at Clark from under his lashes. He knows exactly what he’s doing to the sailor, but he doesn’t care. He start sucking on the flesh between the thumb and fore finger, licking away the last remnants of blood, and his mouth comes off of Clark’s thumb with an obscene pop. He kisses Clark fiercely, nipping his lip a bit just to be troublesome, pulling him closer, and pulling his hair just a little bit.

There are nails down his back now, and it feels like Clark is trying to pull him out of the water, but he drags Clark forward instead. The human slides into the water and Bruce can feel his arousal against him. The feeling is severely gratifying. He curls his tail around Bruce- grinding their bodies together, and he knows the friction must be incredibly satisfying by the noises Clark is making. The sailor is shamelessly rutting against him, and he feels his own gills fluttering and his body beginning to present in response as a set of nails come dragging down his back, but he reigns himself in.

His mate looks positively wrecked, bucking his hips against him looking for release, and whining almost prettily. His lips are red and swollen from biting them and it’s clear he’s about to climax any minute now, looking like the picture of debauchery with his eyes blown dark and ragged breathing.

“Bruce, please. I need-”

The siren throws the full allure into his voice when he answers.

**_"Come for me Clark."_ **

The sailor’s eyes go misty for a moment with the sheer force of the siren call and then he’s shuddering before sagging against Bruce. The siren gently rolls him back onto the cave floor, starting another fire to keep his mate warm while he recovers.

“You used the siren call on me.”He sounds like he just ran a marathon, but that's beside the point.

“It worked didn’t it?"

“Well… yes.” He know has a plethora of scenarios that Bruce could use his siren call in stocked away in his brain.

“Go to sleep, Clark.”

There’s a beat of silence before the siren gets a response.

“I love you Bruce.”

“… I care for you too Clark.” There’s a press of lips to his forehead before Bruce curls halfway onto his little rock perch.

... Clark sleeps soundly that night.


	7. AUTHOR NOTE

Hey guys,

I know you all are waiting for an update but I have a lot going on right now, and my dad passed away this week so I'm trying to deal with the grief still...

I want to thank you all so much for supporting me while I write this story because it's the longest I've ever done so far, and you guys have done nothing but fill my inbox with love since I started it.

I don't have wifi or a laptop at my disposal right now, and honestly I think I need a break from everything for a while. As such I'm putting KMTMBA on hiatus again until further notice. I will update within the next thirty days maximum, and by that time I hope I will have found my inspiration again. 

I love all my readers, so I don't want to give you subpar work while I am too concerned with grieving for my father, because my work is made for your entertainment.

Please don't lose hope with me, because I really just need time to put myself back together. Losing my dad was a big shock, and I just feel too empty to write with the same passion I usually would.

I promise that as soon as I am better I will get back on my feet and find a way to write and post more.

Till then with love,

Jessica aka HeiressToSlytherin


	8. Another Author's Note...

Okay, so I know you guys are going to hate me a little, but I'm keeping this story on hiatus for a lot longer than planned. BUT WAIIT!

I have a reason. I 'm kind of going into my senior year of school now, and my grades are slipping a bit so I want to buckle down a bit this semester. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing, it just means I'm not posting on THIS story for a while. I have some shorter things in mind to keep you beasts satiated a bit. Go see my story, Bats and Bras while you wait! Thank you to everyone for your support, and to all of you who are wondering, I am doing much better now despite recent events, and I am back to writing this week :D

Looking forward to posting more content!

Love ya,

Jessica Gamble aka HeiressToSlytherin


	9. Let's cry together or not at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark has to take care of Bruce because he’s hurt, but learns about how his family died, and more about siren culture. Clark tells Bruce why he had the panic attack during the storm. Mating bond is formed. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I couldn't help myself! My posting will most likely be erratic, but I hope you guys like this because it's a little longer than my typical post, and I know ITS BEEN SO LOOONG! Drop me comments, you know I love talking to you guys :D and hmu on tumblr at jessica-not-jones.tumblr.com kiddos.

The next day is a bit more difficult for Clark and Bruce.

Bruce wakes up with his lower tail aching, and he knows it’s not exactly smart to go hunting in this state to put himself at risk. It’s quite possible for a siren to get by on kelp and sea weed, but Clark, the resident human, needs to eat. He carefully thinks about his options (quite few really), and makes up his mind.

Then he starts humming, because singing will most certainly wake Clark up, and he’s quite content to stare at the sleeping form for a few more minutes. Tousled hair, face pressed against a bed of palm leaves, shirt ridden up to show a delicious sliver of toned skin – it’s distracting, but oh so intoxicatingly _pleasant_.

To be fair, he doesn’t expect a lot of game. Maybe a few minnows, some shrimp or some carp-the usual suckers ready to be anyone’s lunch - but the sheer amount of damn fish that crowd around him after five minutes is disturbing, because he doesn’t think that Clark is going to eat this much and the poor bastards don’t want to leave. A fleeting thought of oceanic masochism passes through his mind, but he chuckles and shoes it away.

But seriously, there’s so many of them, it’s annoying now. Dozens of little eyes staring at him expectantly, not realizing he’s invited them to breakfast to put _them_ on the menu. By the time Clark wakes up, Bruce is trying to shoo an overly friendly octopus away, without much success.

“Bruce?” Clark sounds confused. That’s probably because there is a horde of sea creatures looking at him curiously.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?” The octopus still hasn’t let go of his waist yet. It’s embarrassing really.

“Trying to make you breakfast?” The excuse sounds much weaker than he thought it would, and Bruce himself winces a bit at how it sounds.

However, Clark has this innate ability to look overly adorable in the morning and before he knows it, Bruce is moving forward, and subsequently letting out a feral hiss at the stab of pain in his lower tail. 

“Bruce, shit-are you okay?”

“If I say yes, will you worry less?”

“No.” The answer is quick and unabashed, and the siren feels something in his chest flutter in response. He is still getting used to the fact that Clark cares, and not in the I-want-to-stuff-you-in-a-terrarium kind of care. It’s touching, as the humans would say.

Clark takes a thorough look at Bruce, and makes his verdict after a few minutes.

“You’re not moving a muscle until tomorrow, you know that right?”

“I’m fine.”

He tries to move off his rock perch again and his whole tail groans in disapproval. The pain is evident in his expression, and Clark rushes to push him back down, shushing him and ordering him to stay still. The determined look in Bruce’s eye is now worrying.

“If you move, I will probably make a sound you have never heard escape a human body before, Bruce. You have sensitive ears if I recall correctly.”  The fierce look the Clark gives him while brushing hair out of his face is beautiful. Is he starting to get stubble?

Well damn.

  More to the point, it’s a low blow but screaming might _actually_ work considering Bruce wouldn’t get very far trying to cover his ears and flail away at the same time. Clark might be the smartest human Bruce has ever met, though one doesn’t exactly give their lunch an IQ test before digging in, so he’s not one hundred percent sure if he’s right.

“Such tactics seem beneath you Clark. Aren’t you supposed to be the good one?”

The sailor raises a single eyebrow in response.

“How do you know I’m good, Bruce? Maybe I murder turtles for fun. You wouldn’t know.”

“Well for starters Clark, turtle murderers probably wouldn’t confess such a crime to a siren upon the fear of death, and secondly-you don’t have it in you. I believe the word in my language roughly translates to you being a wuss.” Bruce absentmindedly picks a barnacle off a rock and starts to munch.

The sound makes Clark’s blood crawl but he puts that on the backburner to him being called a wuss by a supposedly non-existent being.

“Did you just call me a-”

“Are you hungry?” If its one thing Bruce can master, it’s the art of deflection. Looking to his right, Bruce realizes they have observers.  It’s obvious between the two of them; they are just going to ignore the looming pack of fishes and sea creatures who can’t actually understand their conversation. That includes the octopus that is looking very comfortable on Bruce’s lower abdomen. It’s like having a blind audience at a silent movie, Clark thinks.

“Yes-”

There is a split second before claws are out and Bruce skewers a fish mid-conversation. The sound is played on loop in Clark’s mind. He can practically envision the coated nacre claws shredding through flesh and blood, shattering bones-

“That doesn’t faze you at all?” There is a fizzling sound as Bruce scorches the fish in his hand. Siren magic is still something he needs to get used to.

“What?”

“How about your ability to provide rapid death to marine life? Doesn’t that irk you a little?”

“Not when you’re hungry, no. It’s a fish eat fish world, Clark.”

The sailor is beginning to wonder if kissing Bruce not only gave him the ability to speak English, but to make butchered literature references. It’s endearing in its own way, if you look at it.

“Is that something all sirens do?”

The half human looks a little sullen at the question.

“Yes. You usually learn to finger hunt first in your pod. My mother taught me as a pup.”

“What happened?” Too late he realizes that might have been an overly personal question. Clark knows he has a penchant for putting his foot in his mouth, so to speak but this one really takes the cake.

“My parents were murdered, Clark.”

“God- Bruce, I’m sorry. I never knew my birth parents. I mean I have vague memories of them before I was adopted, but it all blurs together now that I’m older. My adopted father died when I was eight, actually.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His tone is weird, but it’s clear Bruce is trying to be sympathetic in some kind of way. That’s mainly why Clark continues to talk.

“Well, you’re no therapist so I certainly feel more at home,” an eye roll accompanies the comment, “-but sure. I think I might be better off talking about it. I never even told my mother about that night.”

He takes a deep breath, and leans back on one of the adjoining rocks to get closer to Bruce, who absentmindedly starts a fire to warm Clark up. For a few moments he mesmerized by the play of the flames over delicate veined fingers, but appearances can deceive. He doesn’t need Bruce to tell him those same fingers have choked men out, slit throats and crushed skulls.

He can see it in the siren’s languid grace. That does not make it any less attractive to him- it’s like the danger excites him.

“I was eight years old, and my father and I- his name was Jonathan- we were going out for our usual weekend sail. I always got real excited because I loved the sea and that was our special time. No Ma or neighbors or chores to interrupt it.” He lets out a content sigh at the happier memories.

“We knew the weather wasn’t the best that day, but we’d sailed in rough waters before, and it wasn’t a big deal to us. So we took my parents ship, the S.S.Krypton- the last thing they left me really- and we went out as usual, not really expecting anything exciting to happen.”

“We reached about an hour out and the sky started to darken. It was like it came out of nowhere. The storm came on us in five minutes, like-like _magic_ Bruce. The ship was tossing and turning and I was just a kid. I couldn’t do anything. When the starboard side tipped Pa and I got tossed. The water was so rough, and I couldn’t see -” His breath is wracking now, but Bruce knows better than to touch him.

“He drowned. I watched the sea swallow him and my ship whole, and I was a little eight year old squirt who couldn’t do a thing but scream and cry for my dad, almost to the point of dehydration, before someone found me floating unconscious, tied to a barrel in the middle of Gotham Bay. That’s why I panicked during the storm. That’s also how I learned to hate the sea.”

Bruce’s heart is in shreds. Clark didn’t deserve that. He was just a kid, and no one should have to see such violence at a young age. He knows what it’s like. To scream and watch the life leave their eyes until you don’t realize the voice you’re hearing is your own.

Clark’s eyes are red from crying by the time Bruce thinks he’s calmed down enough to be touched. He practically melts into Bruce’s touch, but luckily Clarks is a silent crier.

“I was eight too.”

Clark doesn’t respond, but Bruce knows he’s listening.

“It was another pod. They had a vendetta against my family. Mobsters you might call them, I guess. I was supposed to be asleep but I couldn’t so my parents took me to a reef show. I got scared, and I asked to leave. On the way back, they ambushed us.”

He hears the intake of breath but continues.

“They wouldn’t even fight me. They tossed me aside and ran them through with spears, like the cowards they were because they thought it was fair to fight a mother and a pacifist. There was so much blood in the water-and then the sharks came.”

He feels Clark stiffen at the mention of sharks and runs a comforting hand over his hair, taking advantage of the cradled position he holds the human in.

   
“There were dozens of them-circling their corpses- so I just started screaming. I went feral on them. They were practically fish food when I was done, Clark. The entire cavern was red, and I couldn’t tell whose it was by the time I was done.”

His face is blank but his memories are filled with the stench of iron scented blood. There was just so much of it. There was so much red. He’s learned to love it now.

“They took my father’s best friend, Alfred, too. Made him take voluntary exile from the pod. I missed so much- God I missed him- but I could never see him or they would kill him, Clark. They would murder him and he was all I had left, so I stayed away. Two years later I was spotted by fishermen. They caught me in a net, and I was still a child. They tried to kill me…tried to skin my gills. They called me a freak.”

Bruce would not cry. That doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt in his own way. The sick feeling in his stomach spoke for itself. He still saw the sneering faces of those bastards who wanted to preserve him like some kind of exhibit in his nightmares.

“That’s how I learned to hate humans.”

The following silence is poignant. It’s not awkward, but it rather loaded. Like shattering it would bring something the two men weren’t sure they could handle just yet, so they said nothing.

“How did you get away?”

His laughter is cold, and brittle like glass.

“I do what I do best Clark. I sang, and then sat smiling like Bacchus amongst the madmen.”

“I don’t understand.” Bruce suspected as much.

“The song of a siren can do more than lure men… if it’s not controlled it can drive people to the point of madness. I didn’t know what would happen, only that I wasn’t supposed to sing until I presented because something bad could happen.

No one had taught me to control the strength of the call in my voice, and they tripped over each other trying to get it out of their heads. Eventually most of them killed themselves or bled out in the fight.”

“Christ- you just sat there and watched them go mad?”

“Yes.” The answer is finite, with no room for misinterpretation. Bruce _wants_ Clark to be afraid. He should be.

“I’m sorry Bruce.

“I’m not. They deserved it. Not all men are like you Clark. Most men are snacks to me. Remember that. I am firstly and foremost a predator, I can’t control that. You need to know that you’re in love with a monster.” His tone is pleading, but Clark is immune.

“Bruce I’m not afraid.”

“There’s something severely wrong with you, Kent.”

“Yes. I am sitting down talking out my childhood trauma with a mythological creature, who I am apparently mated to, while eating magically cooked fish in a cave after being shipwrecked. Something is definitely wrong, but being right is extremely overrated to me right now.”

“You’re an idiot,  I hope you know that.”

“I love when you do that.” Clark’s tone is so fond, one might have thought he'd been dropped on his head before.

“Do what, insult you?”

“No. I mean push me away when we both know you don’t mean it. Bruce, how do I get this into in your thick skull? I’m not going anywhere that you _aren’t_. _You_ saved my life. _You_ took care of me. _You_ chose me as your mate. I don’t care about anything else. If I have to build a house by the ocean then so be it. I’m _not_ leaving.”

“Shut up Clark.”

“You’re not a monster to me Bruce. Men are monsters, so you did what you had to do to survive. I would never hold that against you, because I know you don’t want to hurt me. If you did you would have done it already.”

Bruce makes a non committal noise of agreement.

“So you would rather live with a siren? You would give up humanity?”

“We’re mates right?”

“Well yes-”

“If I didn’t want to stay Bruce I wouldn’t. I’ve seen what humanity is like, and I don’t necessarily want to go back, but pretty soon I will have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother needs me at home to handle some things. I will come back for you though. I’m not going anywhere for long. But with the catamaran wrecked, she might be thinking the worst Bruce.”

“Its fine, Clark-I’ll get you to wherever you need to go- just go see her. She’s your only parent left. I have matters to attend to as well.”

“Matters like?”

“Scoping my territory- intruders tend to scamp into Gotham Bay when its guardian is gone too long. I might need to give a not-so-friendly reminder for them to get out. There are more sharks in these waters than you think.”

“Alright then, you can handle your arrangements and I’ll meet you on the outskirts of Gotham Bay when I wrap up my family business and fetch another boat. I won’t be more than a few days.”

"Okay... I trust you."

 

 

 

The rest of their day needs no words. Clark’s eminent departure invokes an involuntary silence from him, and he doesn’t know why the prospect makes him so upset, so Bruce keeps quiet while his sailor tells him stories from the human history. They sit there for hours, content to hold each other while the siren’s tail mends with supernatural speed.

When the sun has long settled into the sea, they sit next to the fire, watching as Bruce makes the embers dance and take the form of dolphins and sirens and ships. It takes a moment, but the half human realizes he can finally say the words now.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Bruce knows they’ve finally completed their mating bond, because he’s said it. He feels the warm coiling attachment to Clark growing ever stronger, and he can tell the human feels it too as his face contorts in confusion at the warm sensation in his chest. He eventually realizes it has something to do with the new strength of their relationship though.

The resulting smile is blinding.

(Bruce thinks to himself:  _this won’t_ ever _get old.)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to @hannalu-art on Tumblr for the fanart! Go check out her blog [over here!](https://hannalu-art.tumblr.com/)


	10. We're gonna let it burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark has to go back to Metropolis, but promises to return. On arriving to Metropolis, Clark gets some bad news . Bruce chooses this time to go check up on Gotham Bay. Gotham Bay is occupied by none other than Lex Luthor and his cronies who’ve come to capture a mermaid. A blood bath ensues and Bruce is joined by an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I might be erratic in posting, but I had next to nothing to do today besides chores because homework is for tomorrow (#procrastinationbossmuch?) so I decided to give you an update. WARNING: SADISM, LIGHT ANXIETY TRIGGERS, VIOLENCE, DEATH.  
> You've been warned. This chapter is kind of dark. Enjoy! :D

 

 

Clark didn’t think leaving would hurt so much, but after the time he’d spent with Bruce- the time he’d _depended_ on Bruce for everything- he felt like he wasn’t at all sure how he was supposed to manage on his own now.

The siren had swam and carried him as close to Metropolis as he could without being spotted, and then left without a word. Clark could tell the environment made his mate tense, so he let him go and stared as he sped away at unnaturally fast speeds to avoid any possible human interaction.

When he was a good few miles out, Bruce stopped and looked back to make sure Clark had made it safely to the docks. Then, with a neat flourish, he dived up and out of the water, curling his tail and making a dolphin noise. He wasn’t worried about being seen now because it was four in the morning and not a soul was on the docks yet.

He didn’t have to look back. He could feel Clark’s splitting smile from the distance.

-

Clark made his way into town on foot, and stopped at the nearest pawn shop, and to say the place is huge is an understatement. They weren’t open yet, but he could see a frazzled, pot-bellied man behind the desk, watching reruns of a western on an old television. He knocked on the glass, but was ignored.

He rolled his eyes, and fished in his pouch to pull out the gold coins and held one up to the glass before knocking again. The man looked up in annoyance before freezing. The maneuver to get to the door was quicker than the sailor expected. The lock is opened in seconds.

“Is that real?” The old man is wide eyed and practically nosing the doubloon in Clark’s hand.

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

“It has all the makers for original Spaniard gold. Say…how about I take that off you for some cash?” He’s practically salivating, and Clark doesn’t understand what’s so special about it really.

“I don’t know- could you take the whole bag?”

“You want me to take a whole bag? How many do you have in there, son?” The man’s jaw should not be able to drop that low.

“Thirty six originals and they’re all in mint condition.”

“I’ll give you a hundred and fifty large for them now.”

“Make it two hundred or I call the museum and get triple.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

The bag of money is heavier than Clark expected.

-

 

Bruce knows something is wrong by the time he’s twenty miles out from Gotham Bay. He uses his sonar and senses a ship in his territory. Not a one man sail either. He swims carefully to avoid being seen and smiles devilishly in anticipation. He knows how to play men, and they won’t know what’s coming.

The men on the ship walk back and forth restlessly, and Bruce thinks he’ll toy with them a bit first. He circles the ship, hovering barely under the water until one of them notices him, fluttering his tail prettily and looking for the entire world like a dumb half fish, curious about the new visitors.

“Sir, I spotted the specimen on the port bow!”

There is a flurry of footsteps and a curly haired young man comes to the port bow and looks at Bruce.

“Don’t engage it. It’s dangerous- savage even.”

“That’s not true!” he says, putting a petulant lilt to his voice. He can’t come off as a perfect predator or they might attack him prematurely and that will just throw off his plan. “I’m perfectly civil, especially to handsome visitors such as you men.” The siren smiles charmingly while the men stare -flabbergasted that he can speak.

“You speak English?”

“Yes, but why are you in my territory? Did you come to help with the shark invasion problem? I swear they are like pests-”

“These are unclaimed waters, I’ll have you know, and we’re here to see you.”

Bruce’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.

**_“Me? To what do I owe the pleasure then?”_ **

He pours the full allure into his voice, and sees some of the men start to walk forward.

“You’re genetic call doesn’t work on me, creature.” His sneer is not as bad as some Bruce has seen.

“I have a name.”

He presses a button in Bruce’s ‘distraction’, and a net entraps him, dragging him onto the ship.

“Animals like you don’t get names. But if you prefer, I can call you Fishy.”

 _Oh, this bastard is as good as dead_ , Bruce thinks.

 

-

By the time Clark reaches his mother’s house, he’s so tired he’s barely noticed something is wrong.  It actually takes him a few moments to come to the realisation. Krypto, the family dog, isn’t in the yard. The windows are all closed. The gate is locked. No one is home.

“Ma? Are you there? It’s me, Clark.” He’s speaking more loudly than necessary because his mother is deaf in one ear and never bothered to get a hearing aid.

“Clark?”

It’s not his mother’s voice, but a familiar voice all the same.

“Lois?”

“You’re alive?” She pulls him into a bruising hug, and he expected as much really.

“Yeah, the catamaran didn’t make it but I’m fine.”

“Oh god, I thought I’d lost you too.”

“Lost me too? Who- who died Lois?”

The silence is hard hitting, but not as bad as the realisation.

“No- no I don’t believe it.” He’s shaking, and without thought his hand flies into the plant pot on the wall, crashing the clay and scattering the dirt.

“Clark I’m sorry.”

“How? How did she die?”

He’s leaning on the wall trying to catch his breath, and she knows better than to touch him.

“Martha held on, but she passed two days ago. She thought you’d died Clark.”

Of course. He’d stayed in a cave playing house with Bruce and hadn’t even realised what his own mother would be feeling. She’d thought her baby boy had drowned in the ocean like her husband. How could he do that to her? How could he let her go through that _again_?

He realized the sinking feeling in his gut was back and he let it slowly tear him apart, because he’d practically killed his own mother. His selfishness broke her heart. How was he supposed to live with himself? He didn’t even acknowledge the red hot tears sliding down his face, but instead focused on the crunching noises as pounded his hands into the brick wall. He kept it up until his knuckles were bled and battered and he couldn’t even realise he was screaming.

“Clark.” Her tone is pleading. It’s the pity that he hates. He doesn’t want her pity. If he’s being honest he doesn’t even know if he wants _her_. He wants Bruce, but he can’t have that, so he wants to be alone.

“No.”

The one word spoke volumes, and at the moment, it was clear he just wanted to be left alone. She walked away, and he entered the house to sit amongst the relics of times he’d never have again. He closes the door and that wretched house becomes his own Fortress of Solitude.

-

The one thing Bruce has to his advantage is that the men didn’t plan for him to be so heavy. With him sitting in a net, not helping hold any of his weight, it takes six of them to lift him. His entire tail is literally six feet of mainly muscles and fins.

“Tie him up. I’m going to prove it to all of them who didn’t believe me. I told them mermaids were real.”

“Yes, Mr. Luthor, sir.” They untangle the siren from the net and don’t even bother to pin him down, as though his tail leaves him at a disadvantage. _Idiots_. There are nine men on deck, and one siren. The odds were in his favour.

 ** _“You don’t want to tie me up do you boys?”_** Luthor may not be affected by Bruce, but his men sure were.

“Tie him up!”

The two men who come to bind his hands go first.

His innocent expression morphs into one of rage, and he wastes no time dispatching them. He extends his claws and slits their throats, not even flinching at the blood splattering across his face. The two men who were supposed to bind his tail clearly forget its damage capabilities, because it only takes one small swish while they are frozen in horror to leave one lying unconscious and the other with his neck broken at a horrid angle from the force of the blow.

The rest of the men are quick to pull out guns, but Luthor quickly screams at them.

“No! I want the creature unharmed you moronic imbeciles!”

They switch to knives, and that is their first mistake. The siren slides his tail across the deck in a rapid motion, tripping two of them men so as to successfully disarm them. A knife clutters near his reach and he throws it with deadly accuracy at a taller man’s head, hitting him right between the eyes.

Bruce barrel rolls off the edge of the deck knowing he can do more damage from in the water, and swims underneath the ship. There are only four of them left, including Luthor, and he can hear the rapid fire cursing as the load a harpoon gun.

He stays low in the water, and as soon as one of the men wonder close enough to the edge of the ship, he waits for him to turn to walk away before he lunges. Using his full strength, he dives out of the water, grabbing the man as he screams and dragging him under the sea.

It only takes a few moments for him to drown, because humans don’t seem to realise that struggling only tires you out faster. He waits for the body to go completely still and then drags it to the starboard side before letting it float to the surface thanks to high density water in the bay.

When one of the men spots the body the crowd the starboard side, and it gives Bruce enough time to use his upper body strength and haul himself back onto the deck quietly. He picks up the first thing the sees- a tanker of oil, how convenient- and summons a ball of fire. He thought it was about time to blow this joint anyways, and maybe humans tasted better cooked. Who knows?

The men turn around just as Bruce slides back into the water, and he burrows a good mile below in a matter of seconds before the ship explodes. When he comes to the surface there is only one survivor, floating in the water, wide eyed and afraid.

Luthor.

-

Clark wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he realised he needed to get up. He’d been sitting in that damned love seat staring at the living for what could have been hours but he had things to do. Firstly, he needs to pack, because when he buys another boat and goes back out to meet Bruce, he’s not sure he will have anything left to come back for.

He gets two suitcases, and packs them with only the things he will need for now. If anything, he can always make a trip to the mainland to get anything he would find himself wanting. He goes through the motions, packing all his clothes and swimwear, not even thinking of picking up mementos because he knows they will only bring him pain.

He thumbs the leather string around his neck, and the pair of rings that Bruce gave him tinkles softly. Clark thinks it might be best to forget it all. He nothing left in Metropolis. Lois just isn’t enough to tether him to this city of despair anymore.

He walks through his childhood home, memorising every detail, because something in him tells him he won’t be coming back here after this. Clark picks up a picture on the table and a single tear slides down his face as he remembers when it was taken.

He was five years old, and he and his dad were on the hull of the S.S.Krypton. They were preparing the ship to sail, and Clark climbed up one of the masts like a monkey so he could get a better view of the ocean over all the other ships blocking. His father had sneaked up behind him just as Martha took the picture, and he was giggling as Jonathan grabbed him from behind, laughing at his antics.

It hurt to think about those times, because he felt like his parent’s deaths were his fault. All of a sudden it felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was as though there was metal binding his chest with how bad it hurt.

Moving as fast as his legs could take him Clark ran out of the house, gasping for air as the world spun around him. What was going on?

_Get a grip, Kent._

He takes a deep breath before calming himself and getting back on track. After, all he couldn’t sit on his butt all day. He had a ship and a suit to go buy.

-

To say capturing Luthor was easy is an understatement. The man literally passed out the moment he turned around and saw Bruce surface next to him. The siren carried him further into Gotham Bay, and bound him to a rock before leaving him in his favourite sea cavern. He would have to keep an eye out though. If the waves got too high, they would flood the cavern and drown Luthor before Bruce got to have any fun with him. That would be disappointing.

Bruce waited patiently until Luthor came to, and then smiled like the cat that got the cream.

“Wha- where am I?”

“You don’t remember where you are Lex?”

“Oh god- it’s y-you.” He sounds terrified. Bruce loves it.

“Yes. It’s the animal you tried to capture. Or were you going to kill me? Oh- just so you know your little ear devices fell out.”

Luthor manages to go even paler at that. It was obvious he wouldn’t be resistant to the siren call anymore.

“Don’t look so scared Lex. I like that name, by the way.  It looked great in charred black on the side of your ruined ship as it sunk. Beautiful view really.”

Lex says nothing, but squirms as Bruce circles the isolated rock in the water that he is tied to.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purrs, “If not going to lay a finger on you…yet. I’m just going to sing to you.”

Bruce sings for hours. He sings lullabies, and love odes and family songs because he knows exactly what’s happening. With each passing minute, Lex Luthor is losing his goddamned mind as the magic slowly melts his sanity; Bruce loves every minute of it.

The sun is set, and Lex is shivering now from the constant spray of water paired with the late evening chill. He hasn’t said a word in the last hour, but in the hours before that he progressed from pleading to crying to screaming and then laughing like a maniac. Now he just lies there blankly, watching the waves, and chuckling lightly as the water mists him and causes him to feel even colder. It’s pathetic how quickly he breaks really.

Bruce had hoped to drag this out for a few days. He might have two- three at best.

“Now Lex, do you think we should take a break? My voice is getting a little tired.”

A different voice responds.

“I should hope so; you’ve been at it for hours.”

Bruce doesn’t even turn to look. He’s all too familiar with the voice to his left.

“Arthur… it’s been a while.”

Lex whimpers, and like the sadist he is, Bruce smiles.


	11. Blood in the water, metal in the mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark goes to Martha’s funeral and settles things, before attempting to leave Metropolis, already having nothing left. Confrontation with Lois occurs, who thought he was dead. Lois and Clark have one last kiss before he leaves while Bruce solves problems with Arthur, and finds out an old family friend is the cause for the visit. In other news, Lex Luthor meets a violent death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so guys, I'm going to be real with you. This took a while because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with Lex, but I decided to take a darker turn on Bruce here because drama. Oh and just to make you smile, YA BOI ALFRED IS BACK BIATCHES!!!! 
> 
> Anyways, bon appetit! (You wont find this funny as you read on)

 

The suit Clark buys is probably the last one he will ever wear. It is expensive and soft, and he only chooses it on the recommendation of the overly perky sales assistant. The girl rings him up, all blonde curls, red lipstick, and skinny jeans with over exaggerated smiles.

He exits the store- almost forgetting the damn suit mind you- and heads to the nearest broker. The man, unfortunately, is a pain in the ass.

“So you want to buy a nautical transport vehicle?” Clark resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes sir, I would.”

“Do you have insurance? Licensing? What about priors in sailing? Have you read our guide lines-?”

“I am more than qualified to purchase a ship, sir. I also have all my relevant papers in the folder I just handed you.”

The man turns up his nose, straightens his glasses (he probably calls them spectacles for Christ sakes) and thumbs through the file.

“It says here you had an accident. You crashed your last nautical transport vehicle, so you may not be liable to-” Clark pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t crash it. I had to abandon ship because the vessel was sinking. In the middle of a storm, if you would read a little bit further, sir.”

“Ah, I see.”

It takes another three hours before Clark gets the actual papers for the boat, and of course that’s after he gets a lecture about sea insurance, is forced to purchase a policy for the boat, is given a mandatory safety class that he doesn’t need, and gets wheedled into donating to their swimmers course for drowning awareness.

Clark is beginning to hate the brokering industry.

-

Bruce turns around to greet his new guest and reigns in his surprise.

Arthur’s gotten _big_.

The so called ‘king of the ocean’ had been childhood friends with Bruce, but alliances between sirens and merfolk weren’t exactly encouraged. Typically sirens outgrew the average merperson, because sirens grew as large as nine feet long, while a merman would grow as large as six and a half to seven feet. Arthur was an exception.

The man was easily nine and a half feet, with an emerald tail, and regal orange armour with ornate detailing. His blonde hair was swept out of his eyes, and the look he was giving Bruce was one of sheer disappointment.

“Oh come on Arthur, don’t give me that look.”

“You know I don’t condone maltreatment of innocent humans.” His glare is piercing.

“You know as well as I that your word means naught in these waters.” Bruce is unaffected. He is no merman, and the oath of the sea farers does nothing to sway a siren.

Arthur sighs and swims over to Lex. The man doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are glazed over, and he is wheezing now. Bruce really needs to hurry up.

“He’s too far gone isn’t he?”

“He had very little sanity to begin with.” Bruce busies himself with preparing a fire. It was beginning to get rather cold and mermen’s blood would never run as warm as sirens either ways, all with their protective shield around Atlantis.

“Explain yourself. You must have some reason to torture him so.”

“He wanted to capture me.”

Arthur’s face grows rather grim. The water outside starts to foam and crash violently and Bruce swears he hears thunder.

“My dearest friend would not mind me taking the wretched human’s head from his shoulders then.”

“I actually would mind. I plan to eat him soon, you know.”

Arthur looks disgusted.

“What? They taste just fine. You should try it.” Arthur swims a few feet away and Bruce chuckles.

“You have an ocean at your disposal and you sirens still commit the vile act of man-eating?”

“They never learn, my friend. They come like lambs to the slaughter, and I just can’t help myself. It’s not in your nature, so you wouldn’t understand. Their scent calls to us, just as our voice calls to them.”

“You can control it. I know you can.”

“Can I? We don’t strive to be honourable and perfect like mermen, _my king_.” The sarcasm is biting, making mockery of the title, and the siren knows he won’t be made to pay for it.  He sees the flinch in Arthur’s facade. He knows, like anyone else, that just as there are good mermen, there are bad ones.

“Your father was an honourable siren.”

“Don’t speak about my father as though you knew him. You don’t want to get me angry, Arthur.” It’s an empty threat.

“Or you’ll do what Bruce? What will you do? Are you going to bite me?”

Bruce picks up a rock and throws it at the merman with no real force. It’s pathetic, because it misses him by a good few feet, and falls into the water with a resounding plunk.

“...did you just throw a rock at me?”

“No. I attempted to throw a rock at you.”

It starts off slow with soft chuckles, but then they both begin to laugh uncontrollably, and Bruce is taken back to his childhood days. He now remembers why he ignored everyone who told him Arthur was no good.

He was no good either.

-

The yacht is beautiful. The paint was navy and white, and Clark had never seen anything quite like it. It was almost worth the three hours. He walks across the deck, running his hands over the railings, and taking in the entirety of the vessel. It wasn’t the S.S.Krypton; it certainly wasn’t his catamaran, but that was because it was something else entirely.

It was the S.S.Martha.  She was strong, she was sturdy and she was beautiful. She would sail places Clark had yet to discover. She would tread water like a champ. In that moment, the sailor was finally at peace enough to pick himself up, put on the suit, and say his last goodbyes.

Lois is there, like always, waiting to comfort him and wipe away his tears. She’s a good woman- she always had been- but she’s not what he needs. She can tell, but that doesn’t stop her from caring. That doesn’t stop her from holding his hand through the sermon, or handing him a better eulogy than he could ever write, or putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they throw shovel after shovel of dirt on Martha’s casket.

It’s ridiculously sad that the woman who has always been in his corner is now the last person he wants to be with. He used to dream or marrying her. He always thought she and his Ma would plan a big country wedding and they would get a house outside the city, and have some kids. Now he can’t think of anything but getting back to the sea. More importantly, he is focused on getting back to Bruce.

Lois, as expected, doesn’t take this so well.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Clark you just got home. You just lost your mother.”

“I know that!”

“Then why are you so eager to leave Metropolis? Are you really going to leave me?  Clark Kent I waited two years for you, and I swear by God I’m not letting you hop ship and go frolic around the world again. I put too much into us to watch you let yourself burn.”

Clark sighs.

“Lois, I can’t do this to you. When I left, I needed to find myself.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. But you weren’t part of that. I’m sorry-”

“So you’re just letting me go?” She’s crying now, but there’s not much Clark can do. He’s made his choice. He’s chosen Bruce.

“I have to.”

Lois, like the strong gal she is just smiles trough the pain, wiping away her tears and pulling her hair back.

“Let me help you carry your bags then, Kansas.”

-

 

The camaraderie can only last so long really, but Bruce wishes it never had to end.

“You came on business I presume.”

“Well, yes but you are an exceptionally hard siren to find as you must understand.”

“It is intentional I assure you. I’m usually not fond of company as you well know. What is it you need me for?”

“Bruce, I don’t need you to do anything for me. This is more of a situation in which I do something for you.”

The scepticism is immediate.

“...okay then. What did you have in mind?”

“I have a refugee in my pod. Someone who has been looking for you for a long time, you see. They have been searching for decades actually.”

“A refugee you say... who are they running from then?”

“He is an elderly merman who was entangled in siren business and politics.  He is running from the second generation of the Falcone pod warriors. You must be familiar with him I’m sure.”

Bruce is frozen. He doesn’t know how to react.

“What do you want me to do?”

“He has requested to join you in isolation.”

 ** _“Have him brought to me immediately.”_** He doesn’t even remember about controlling his allure, and cringes as Arthur drifts forward.

A warm, fond voice floats to his ear and Bruce can’t help but smile.

“Now Master Bruce, no need for that.”

“Alfred- damn I’ve missed you.” He is speaking in his native tongue, but this mermaid can speak siren as well as any of his pod could have.

“I have missed you too little one.”

“I’m not that little anymore am I?”

“Indeed you are not.”

Their hug is a crashing of fins and Bruce only holds his old friend loosely enough to not crush him and his aged bones. Alfred is still strong, and he still swims like a champ. He is just as fatherly as he was the last time they had seen each other, and Bruce almost cries at the emotions of it all.

“What about your prisoner then?” Arthur enquires.

“Alfred?”

“Master Bruce?”

“Why don’t you take a tour of the waters then? Get a feel of the terrain, and show Arthur out, if you please.”

“I will do as you wish, Master Bruce.”

“Thank you.”

The minute they are far enough away, Lex Luthor is going to wish he was never born. Arthur grimaces at the thought.

 

-

When Clark and Lois are finished packing everything onto the boat, they just sit and talk for hours and hours about anything and everything, but it’s because they both know it’s very unlikely Clark will ever come back to Metropolis.

“How’s the job going?”

“As good as a journalist gets really. There’s so much to expose in Metropolis and I want to get to the heart of it, Clark. The people deserve to know what they’re up against.”

“You’ll do great.”

“Who is it?”

“What?”

“Who did you meet, Clark? I know you met someone. I know you. You keep checking your watch like you have itching powder on your wrist.”

“Okay, so I met someone. What’s the big deal?”

“I’m happy for you, you big oaf.”

“You’re too good to me, Lois.”

“Yeah, yeah tell me about him.”

The blood immediately rushes to his face. Was it that obvious?

“I- uh”

“Clark Kent, I know as well as you do that there is no woman you would choose over me. Journalist intuition, remember? Now spill.”

-

Bruce has his claws out as soon as he thinks Arthur is far away, and Luthor is so far gone, he doesn’t remember he’s supposed to scream. Or at least do something along those lines. He watched the shining weapons attached to his fingers, and slowly drags one sharp edge across the man’s neck, watching a trail of blood form. It’s a fine line, not enough to have him choking on his own blood; that would be too quick.

Bruce has a favourite technique he does. He inserts two claws into their chest, and ruptures their lungs; essentially he lets them know what it is like to drown from the inside out. His incisions are always neat and quick, and Lex lets out a groan and a gasp before the recognition starts to hit him.

His insides are slowly filling with blood, and he starts to gasp for air, but he won’t die just yet. It’s a somewhat slower process, because the cut is just a trickle really. It’s such a thin stream; filling up the caverns of his chest, and bringing his doom.

Bruce uses this time to slowly torture him. He brings a soft pale hand to his mouth, trailing gentle kisses over the cold flesh before swiftly breaking off a finger. He savours the screams- they’re even more addictive than the blood. When he places his flaming hand on the back of the prisoner’s neck, he smells the fear on his capturer. If he was to be treated like an animal, he would brand the bastard like an animal. He was no more than cattle to the slaughter now.

His handprint looks wonderful in the bright red.

Bruce’s eyes are glowing fully now, but he doesn’t care. Lex knows what he is-hell, he asked for it. The finger- it’s an appetizer. He usually enjoys them one by one, but really he just wants to start getting to the good part. He drags his tongue over the human’s forearm- shivering as it is- and sinks his teeth in, watching the spray of blood.

Now, this is the good part. The thick, crimson life source of a human is like a drug to him. He laps at it obscenely, not caring if Arthur or Alfred hears his prisoner’s screams. Lex is gasping even faster now, and he’s finally started to cough blood. The drowning begins.

Bruce looks at him, and pretty little thing he is; the man is small- all curled locks and blue-green eyes with pale skin. It’s a shame the pretty ones are always the stupid ones when it came to lunch.

The most fun is the kiss of death for the siren. The crashing of lips as his victims start spitting red, letting him taste the metallic tang, the salty silkiness as it slides down his throat. It’s intoxicating. Lex is still somewhat cognitive, and the half-human runs the back of his hand down those pronounced cheekbones.  It’s a shame really.

“P-please.” He siren is genuinely impressed Lex can still speak, what with his eminent death approaching.

Lex is ready to pass out from the pain. He’s gone from seeing starts to seeing constellations behind his eyes, and his entire chest feels like it is on fire.

**_“What, my dearest. What do you want?”_ **

His victims eyes are glazed over, a white fog across them now, without a trace of the blue green tinge that had before. Bruce is losing him, and he’s drifting fast.

“Kill me.”

The sight before him is truly pitiful either ways, and Bruce is nothing if not kind. He never said he ate all of the humans alive, did he? A gentle press of lips against his is the last thing Lex will remember.

 

Arthur wishes he could erase the echo of the sound of a human neck snapping; Alfred, as weathered as he is, doesn’t even flinch.

-

“So he’s good to you, then Kent?”

“Yeah... he’s good.” His private smile comforts Lois just a little.

Their last kiss is fond, and Lois is sad to see him leave. Clark wipes away her tears, and tells her everything will be okay.

“Well you know what I say, Kansas. Even if I’m not okay I will be.” The only thing consoling Lois was that her sailor was going to be in good hands.

On the inside Bruce and Clark both know he is anything but good, but the sailor doesn’t care. A short while later Clark watches Lois fade to speck on the horizon. He has his reasons for choosing Bruce- even knowing what his true nature was like.

After all, love is not because of- it is in spite of.


	12. Let me kiss it better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark reunites with Bruce, but is still mourning over his mother. Bruce attempts to 'cheer' Clark up. As it would turn out, this old dog has more than one trick up his sleeve, but there's trouble in paradise when Bruce learns something new about his physiology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS I AM SOOO SORRY!!! My laptop charger died a while back and I know I promised an update but all my stuff was saved on there, and I kind of wimped out and turned off my laptop and 5%. I eventually said screw it and turned it on and forwarded all my info to my email so I could post and update from the library, because I am that dedicated, lmao. 
> 
> I'm supposed to get a new charger, but for now I will try to post on Mondays hopefully I can use my double free to post if I don't have like a shit ton of hw or something.

Clark only has good sailing back to Gotham Bay, but even that isn’t enough to lift his spirits fully. He feels the loss deep in his bones, and he can’t help but miss his mother. He’ll never get another letter from her at a port, or come home to her apple pie, or get her consoling kisses on his forehead.

For all intents and purposes, Clark Kent grew up a momma’s boy, and losing her is a particularly hard blow to his psyche. The sailor takes a deep breath and steers the yacht into the bay, listening to the purr of the engine, rather than the sound of his own heart breaking. 

“Bruce?” He calls out for his mate and the echo of his own voice reverberates back at him.

“I’m right ahead of you, Clark.”

Sure as ever, Bruce is lazily gliding ahead of the yacht, relaxed and without a care in the world from the looks of it.

“How was everything?” He stops the engine and walks over to the side stairs to sit halfway in the water. Bruce swims closer, and gently glides his tail against Clark. It tickles, but it is soothing.

“It went well. I had a visitor, and now I have another pod member. I’d like you to meet him, if you want.”

“Of course I do, Bruce.” It’s easier to focus on someone else rather than himself in the moment, anyway.

“Alfred? Can you come out here please?”

“Master Bruce?”

“This is Alfred?” Clark is equally flabbergasted, and amazed. The man is so small compared to Bruce, and looks a good bit older.

“Indeed I am, Mister Kent.”

“Please, call me Clark.”

Alfred raises one well practised eyebrow, and the sailor realises the jury is out on that one.

“Alfred, this is my mate, Clark Kent. Clark, this is a god friend of mine, Alfred.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alfred.” Alfred’s warm smile is overly infectious, and his shake is firm and warm.

“You ought to take good care of Master Bruce. I might be an old mermaid, but I still have something left of me should any harm come to him.” His gaze is stern and unwavering, and Clark feels himself gulp.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s quite enough of the scaring my mate act, Alfred. Why don’t you go see if there’s anything you would like to collect near Oracle Isle? I know you’re fond of shells.”

“As you wish, Master Bruce.”

Alfred swims away leisurely, and Clark takes a deep shuddering breath.

“Clark, what’s wrong?” Bruce feels a tightness in his chest that’s not his own, and a sorrow like he’s never felt before.

“She’s gone, Bruce. My mother is gone.” The tears are back, and the sailor is actually glad Bruce sent his friend away, because it would be rather embarrassing if someone were to see him crying like this.

The two sit in silence for a while, and the siren can do no more than to run gentle hands over Clark’s hair, and hush his whines of sadness as they watch the lapping waves in the distance.

“I miss my mother too.”

Clark holds his siren a little tighter with no concern for the fact that his clothes are getting wet.

“It gets easier with time. At first, everything that reminds you of her feels like a knife, but then it gets better. A knife becomes a shard of glass. The glass shard slowly shrinks -till it becomes a pin prick in your side after a while- till it’s so numb you forget all about it, and begin to focus on the good memories instead.”

“How long does it take to go away?”

“It depends. How long do you think you’ll need until you can revisit all those memories?”

“Hopefully not too long, Bruce.”

“Then it should get better soon.”  The siren sighs. It would be nice if he could get his sailor to smile.

“How about I show you a trick?”

“Really, Bruce?”

“I’m serious. I can feel what you feel. I think you need some cheering up, carissthme.” The term of affection slips out really. He doesn’t mean to say it, and the siren can feel a subtle flush running up his gills.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s... an affectionate term. It means... my dearest? I think that’s what it roughly translates to, but it seems more intense in my language.”

“Teach me some?”

Bruce sighs fondly. “Why not?”

-

The siren accompanies Clark to the last island in Oracle isle, and they lounge in the shallow, with Bruce on his stomach, halfway onto the sand.

“How do you say baby?”

“ _Hǐllet_ , or _hǐletin_ if you’re referring to a lover.”

“How do you say darling?”

“Are you only planning on learning pet names?”

“Perhaps.”

“It’s _rellenăr_ but an even fonder version, _adarthĩ_ , could be used.

“You must have been a hit with the ladies.” Clark chuckles at his own joke and Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Oh, come on Bruce. You can’t expect me to believe you’ve never used your fancy siren language on a female before.”

Bruce brings his lips directly next to Clark’s ears before he whispers, “ _Cal sathnitis opines jesthya eek- sine threybeurs, rellenăr. Yé arethys essen meťh ales-detho auk ati lunarǐ ett stariuns_.”

Clark shivers as hot breath runs down his neck and a warm tongue traces the shell of his ear.

“The other women don’t matter- they are not you, darling. You are my all- better than any moon or stars.”

“You s-sure know how to charm the pants off someone.” His breath is coming heavily now, and Bruce’s hands are roaming all over him with no abandon. Suddenly he freezes. “I almost forgot. I want to borrow a shirt. If I’m being realistic, I guess pants would be appropriate too.”

Clark turns around, looking rather confused.

“You- a siren- want to borrow my clothes?”

“Shut up and go get them, you’ll see. I did say I was going to show you a trick, didn’t I?”

-

When Clark goes to the yacht and brings back the clothes, Bruce is already on land. He’s looking rather funny, trying to drag his entire six foot tail onto the shore, and looking for the entire world like a turtle ready to lay eggs.

“Stop laughing Clark.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re a bad liar, Clark.”

The sailor can’t help but laugh, and he’s clearly awful at stifling it.

Bruce rolls over on his back and his hands bursts into flames. Clark involuntarily steps backwards, and Bruce just shakes his head. The siren begins to run his flaming hands over his tail, and his mate goes to interrupt before he remembers Bruce is _fireproof_.

How convenient.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Close your eyes, this can look kind of gross.”

Clark still hasn’t gotten an answer, but turns around for good measure. There are weird, wet and sloshing noises before he hears an unusual sound.

Shuffling of feet.

“Bruce?”

A pair of familiar hands grabs the cargo shorts out of his hands, and there is a rustling of starchy cotton and slight cursing.

“Do you need some help? Pants can be tricky if you’re not human you know-”

“Clark? Shut up.”

The shirt goes next, and a few seconds later Bruce speaks.

“I’m decent now.”

Clark turns around, is at a loss for words.

“..you have legs.”

“I do.”

“You failed to mention this before.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

Clark thinks it is pretty relevant all right. Bruce was attractive in siren form, but he was no less appealing in any way. He was maybe two or so inches shorter than him, with a muscular build as expected, but the subtle differences were obvious in this form. He did not have gills or webbed ears, his eyes were a more of a natural shade of blue rather than an obscenely bright colour, and his usual shoulder length hair was much shorter.

“I think it’s pretty relevant.”

“Do you not like it?”

“No! You look... wonderful. It’s just something to get used to, is all.”

“How about a walk on the beach then?”

“I’d like that.”

-

Bruce has been nosing the juncture at the sailor’s neck for a few minutes now, and Clark doesn’t exactly want to tell him to stop. Perhaps it’s a siren thing.

 “You smell so good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I still have heightened senses, Clark. But yes, you smell good.”

“How do I smell, exactly?”

Bruce takes a deep sniff, and Clark stifles a laugh.

“Salty, with something like...  cedar? Is that sage? I can’t pinpoint it all. But it’s really good. You just smell intoxicating.”

“Thanks?”

Bruce mumbles something but Clark doesn’t hear it between the vigorous scenting. Clark is something out of his dreams, and it dawns on Bruce just how attached he is. He can’t bear the thought of losing his mate now- not after everything they’ve been though.

 ** _“Tell me you love me?”_**  Clark isn’t averse to the call, but now that Bruce is his mate it has a slightly different effect on him. It’s more soothing than anything else, really. Bruce is seated behind Clark, his legs around the sailor’s waist, and hugging him from behind as though any space between the two was a sin.

“I love you.”

 ** _“Tell me you’re mine?”_** Bruce unclasps his hands from around Clark’s waist and gently manoeuvres himself so he’s practically sitting in the human’s lap, facing him.

“I’m yours, _adarthĩ_ ,.”

 ** _“Tell me you won’t leave?”_**   Bruce looks innocent almost- all soft lips and long lashes and windswept hair- but the look he’s giving his mate is far from it.

“Being away from you would be like drowning...”

**_“Kiss me?”_ **

“My pleasure.”

Their lips meet softly, and Clark is still getting used to Bruce in this form. Where he would expect to find scaled, rigid muscle there are toned, pale thighs splayed on either side of him. He runs his hands over them, gently kneading, and Bruce masks the smallest of gasps. Bruce is still fascinated with Clarks neck, and whispers, “You are perfect,” while dragging his nails down the column of Clark’s throat.  It suddenly occurs to Clark that maybe this isn’t the best time or place for their particular brand of extracurricular activities, per say.

“Bruce…we- ungh- we shouldn’t.” He’s trying to pull away slightly, and is finding it rather difficult with the siren stuck to him like glue, nibbling and biting and making _rather_ obscene noises.

“Shouldn’t what, Clark?” Bruce knows _exactly_ what he is doing.

“This isn’t exactly the prime location for what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

Clark gives him a deadpan, albeit breathless look.

“You’re sprawled on my lap, with yours hands in my hair, and your mouth on my neck and I’m _not_ supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

“Point taken. So I guess you don’t want me to do this?” He punctuates with a slow grind against Clark.

“Bruce.” It’s becoming increasingly difficult to reason with his mate, and while he’s all for the idea of a roll in the hay so to speak, he’s not keen on getting sand in places where sand shouldn’t be, if you know what he means.

“No? Okay, what about this?” He dips in close to the side of Clark’s head, dragging his tongue over the outer shell of the sailor’s ear, and blowing on it with cool air. Clark resists the urge to shiver.

“Bruce…”

“Kent, you are really no fun.” There’s a pout in there that the human is determinedly not looking at, because if he looks at Bruce, he loses. If he takes one glance at those endless blue eyes, and those pouty lips and he’ll crack, and for _once,_ just _once_ he would like to win, thank you.

“What if Alfred comes looking for us?”

“He won’t.” Bruce gives him a chaste kiss, but he’s not like himself; he’s a little too frantic- too _needy_ and it’s showing.

“How could you possibly know that?” Another kiss, but this time a little more fervent. Like he has a mission of sorts.

“Call it a hunch. The man has impeccable timing.” Bruce is holding his shoulders and pushing him down, and he’s doing something magical with his hips alright, because Clark has never felt anything like it. Any arguments he had are flying out the metaphorical window now, and Lois Lane is the last goddamn person on his mind in that particular moment.

Bruce starts fumbling at his zip and the sailor finally gets control over himself.

“Bruce.” The siren looks up and his eyes are hazy, almost glassed over. He looks… entranced. He seems to be attuned to Clark though, so Clark tries to shake him out of it.

“Bruce!” Suddenly, his mate shakes his head, and is back to normal.

“What just happened?” It’s Clark’s turn to feel all awkward now.

“You kind went into a daze… you tried to jump me.”

Bruce groans and covers his face with hands, crawling out of his mate’s lap and trying to not die of embarrassment.

“Are you okay? Do I need to be worried, Bruce?”

The siren sighs, and responds, “No, I’m sorry. It was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again.” He isn’t exactly sure how he’s going to keep that promise but he’ll damn well try.

“The trance or the sex? I don’t think that it’s fair-”

“I meant the trance, you idiot.” Bruce can’t help but laugh, and Clark starts to laugh with him too, feeling it bubble up and burst out of his chest like butterflies.

 

Later, when he’s changed back, and Clark is asleep, Bruce tries and tries to rest but he just _can’t_. He feels squeamish and on edge, his entire face is flushed and his lower abdomen feels like someone is running a _knife_ through it.

He eventually goes to Alfred to seek help, but the merman just looks at him and nods gravely.

“Oh, dear; I’d expected this upon meeting Master Kent, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.”

“What the hell do you mean Alfred?” Bruce isn’t exactly feeling keen on bullshit right now, and he’s suddenly feeling like his skin is too tight.

“You’ve chosen a male as your mate, Master Bruce. Your siren anatomy recognizes _you_ as the child bearer in the relationship…and thus you are beginning to experience your first heat.”

All the blood leaves the siren’s face. Well damn.

(It was at this moment, Bruce realized he fucked up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYYY!!! NOTICE:
> 
> I've decided to do a little challenge among my readers, to give you guys a chance to be gifted the next story I plan to write ( a Batfam 5+1 story) , and posted by yours truly! The rules are simple. You just need to have an Ao3 account, leave kudos on this story, and post a comment below on your favorite moment from 'Kiss me take my breath away' so far with a minimum of 100 words on why you liked it :D
> 
> I will announce this winner next update, and I hope you guys enjoyed the update :) Good luck to all my contestants, and I look forward to all your wonderful comments :) 
> 
> Even if you don't do it for me, do it for the Batfam ( I ain't gon' do it)


	13. Love me like you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce goes into heat and tires to hide it from Clark. This is the result.

Bruce valiantly keeps his head high after his conversation with Alfred, and heads back to the cave, ignoring the possible repercussions of being near to Clark. He knows what effect Clark will have on him, but if there is a possibility of him being able to get through this heat without telling his mate, his is willing to try it.

 

Within the next few hours, he begins to feel the true onset of the effects of his heat. He enters the water to cool himself off rather than burn on his rock perch, but it doesn’t help. He feels several degrees too warm, and there’s a flush to his skin that is certainly not natural. The pain in his abdomen doesn’t subside but there isn’t much he can do to fix that.

 

He’s already started to present, and he’s actually somewhat fuzzy on how this works. It’s clearly stated his anatomy will shift, but no one ever states how and- _holy Triton what is that pain?_

 

His gills feel like they are _burning_ and he’s throbbing in places that don’t normally throb, and when he lowers his hands from holding his stomach- that _was not_ there before. His scales have practically curled in on themselves and disappeared, starting from above his hips- and where there is usually glossy black skin underneath there are soft folds. His breath catches  at the sight, but he pauses to ensure Clark is still sleeping.

 

Bruce looks to the sea and starts praying that his mate doesn’t wake up soon before he picks up on a sharp, sweet smell. He turns around looking for the source before realizing the smell is _him._ He blushes straight up to his ears and foolishly tries to wash it away, but the slightest contact makes him moan pitifully. His fingers, he realises, are sticky- the source of the scent.

 

He lifts them into the moonlight, and they are covered in a thick glistening fluid that came from _him._ He’s soaking wet, and he has more than a few ideas of how to fix it, but few that don’t involve waking up Clark. He swims away from their usual cavern before he deems it necessary to wake up his mate.

 

Bruce isn’t sure that the sailor would react well to these...abrupt changes in his anatomy. The curling movements the siren makes to cut through the water goes straight to his core and as soon as he is far enough away to not be heard or seen, he supports himself on the nearest structure, a smooth enough rock cluster, and tries to relieve himself.

 

Everything feels too hot, and he uses delicate fingers to explore the soft new flesh. His fingers glide back and forth over his entrance, and the siren allows himself to close his eyes and imagine that it’s Clark touching him instead.

 

He has no idea what he’s doing, but when one of his fingers slide into his entrance, something tells him he’s doing things right. With the amount of slick he’s making, the first digit slides right in, and the siren whimpers at the positively wonderful stretch. He experiments, sliding and curling his finger, and the shivers down his spine are fair rewards. The feeling is unusual but so good, and Bruce can’t imagine stopping. His breath is coming faster and he’s practically rolling his hips for more friction, but not getting very far with his tail weighing him down. He whines at the lack of a better angle, and tries to desperately take care of it.

 

He slides another finger in and flutters them, while holding back a moan. The caverns might be long, but they do echo.

 

He imagines what it would be like if Clark found him like this, needy and whining with two fingers in him, _begging_ for more. He clenches around his own fingers at the thought, imagining his sailor approaching him with dark eyes, skin accented in the moonlight, and kissing him like he never dared to do. Touching him like this, so intimately-pleasuring him like this till he screams- Bruce speeds up his hands, and he starts to cry and shake with how good it is  before his stomach tightens and his vision blurs with the strength of his orgasm.

 

It ripples through him, causing a full body shudder, and he feels positively wrecked when he comes down. His tail feels heavy, and he’s sticky and sweaty in all the wrong places.

 

He looks down at the mess he’s made -positively filthy- and closes his eyes, hoping to will it away. The extreme pain he felt before has died down to a mild sensation, but Bruce gets the feeling it will be back, and with it, the same wanton desires as before. All he wants is to do is curl up next to Clark, but that wouldn’t be a great idea, so Bruce assigns himself to the metaphorical couch for the night by sleeping on the other half of the cave, leaving a stretch of water about forty yards between them. He looks up at the moon and estimates the time of night. He has about five hours till sunrise.

 

It’s too bad that Bruce barely gets any sleep.

 

-

 

Clark wakes up to any empty perch next to him. Bruce isn’t in his usual space, but when Clark looks around he sees Bruce some distance away, sleeping on a different perch, turned away from him. He quietly slips into the water, hoping to surprise Bruce with a morning kiss. It turns out Bruce is already awake, because when Clark is a few feet away, he curls in even further on himself, whimpering and holding his stomach.

 

“Bruce?”

 

“Now really isn’t a good time, Clark.”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Clark closes the distance, resting a hand on Bruce’s waist, and then siren lets out an obscene moan at the touch. His skin, the sailor notices, is much hotter than usual.

 

“Don’t touch me! You’ll make it-ungh- worse.” His voice sounds wrecked, and the human begins to get worried.

 

“Bruce, tell me what the hell is wrong with you, _now._ ” The siren shudders at the command in Clark’s voice and whimpers.

 

“I’m going through my heat.” Clark’s breathing hitches and Bruce hears it, curling in even _more_ and the human didn’t think that was physically possible with his tail.

 

“Bruce, look at me.”

 

“No. I have a- I have-”

 

“Bruce. _Look at me_.” The siren hesitantly sits up, and turns, flipping his tail into the water. Clarks eyes focus on him, and Bruce flushes deeply when his eyes drop downward. His state of painful arousal is obvious, and he’s dripping wet again, with slick glistening down onto his scales that are on display for Clark.

 

“There is nothing wrong with you. I’m sure your body is doing what it thinks is normal. You are no less attractive to me like this, but you already guessed that, right?” Bruce relaxes with Clark’s affirmation, but a passing breeze is enough to make him shudder in pleasure now.

 

“I wasn’t sure you would want me like this…” The siren looks anywhere at Clark, and he’s never had anything to be embarrassed about his entire life, but now with his mates eyes on him, and his current situation, he feels so exposed.

 

“Bruce, you could have legs or fins, female or male parts and I would still want you.”

 

Bruce grins in response, but his smile only lasts so long. He's hit with a wave of nerve-wracking pain,  and doubles over in response. Clark is immediately at his side, trying to help him.

 

“ It hurts.I need you to touch me,Clark.” The sailor’s eyes grow dark in response.

 

“ Bruce, I don't want to do anything that you aren’t sure of.”

 

“Clark, if you don't put your hands on me right now I will rip something on you,” the siren growls.

 

Clark hastily gets out of the water, and places himself comfortably around his mate. His hair is dripping,and his eyes are a dark blue,much like the night sky. The hunger in them is enough to make Bruce shiver with anticipation.

“Why didn't you come to me Bruce?” His voice is husky and low, and Bruce tires to find an answer.

“ I didn't want to tell you. I thought you would find this...unattractive.”

 

“Well I suppose I will have to show you _just_ how attractive I find you.” The sailor punctuates his response with several kisses down his mate’s neck. He drags his hands over Bruce's shoulders, following a path down his chest and over his stomach before pausing right below the hips.

 

“Tell me what you want, Bruce.”  The siren practically melts into his touch. His eyes have taken on the seam glazed look as before, but Clark knows that the end result will not be the same as their last encounter.

 

“I- I want your fingers in me. I want to feel them. Please,Clark.”  There's a desperate lilt to his voice, and Clark thanks it suits him. The sailor smashes their lips together in a desperate kiss,  and his mate grabs his hair almost possessively. Bruce is holding him so tightly, it's almost like he's scared to let go.

 

Clarks thumbs make circles over Bruce's hip bones and he rubs softly at the skin there. When he dips his fingers lower towards the apex of Bruce's heat, his mate is _soaking wet_ for him,and the siren releases and inhuman keening noise.

 

“ **_Please Clark, I need it_ **.”  The siren pours the allure into his voice, and emphasizes his point  by rolling his hips into Clark's palm.

 

“I don't want to hurt you, so I’ll have to go slow.” Bruce lets out  a frustrated noise before he replies.

 

“ For the love of Triton, you won't hurt me Clark. My biology is mostly elastic, and after last night I doubt another stretch would be too uncomfortable.” He still flushes a little as he says this.

 

“So you did this already then? You didn't think to wake me up?”  Bruce doesn't respond, but from the way Clark has stopped moving,  he can tell he is in trouble.

 

“You think I didn't want to see you like this? Breathless and begging? You should have come to me,Bruce. I’m disappointed. I would have made everything better.”

 

“Oh yeah? Just how much do you really know about siren biology?”

 

“ Well sweetie,  if you're anything like what I'm familiar with, I'd say a good bit.”

 

Bruce doesn't get a chance to give a sarcastic reply before Clark slides two fingers into him causing him to choke on his own words. He does something spectacular with the two digits -  curling them in a way and angle that he could never do on his own.

“Something tells me you didn't expect that.”  The smug grin on his face is almost too much for Bruce. He can't even fathom words at the moment, and any syllables he might _try_ to put together are drowned out by his wanton moaning as Clark drags a tongue over his neck.

 

“Clark,”he pleads breathlessly,“ I need more.”

 

“ Don't worry Bruce, I'll take good care of you,”he whispers. Bruce lets out a full body shudder.   Clark's fingers slide out, and his mate whimpers at the empty feeling. A pair of lips leaves his neck, and the sailor is suddenly maneuvering himself to be face to face with Bruce's nether regions. He rests his face against Bruce’s tail- it flutters helplessly- and inhales deeply.

 

“God, you smell amazing.”

 

The predator flushes even more-a feat Clark did not think  was even possible-and covers his face with his arm at his embarrassment.

 

“ _Carissthme_ , look at me.” Bruce looks up, and Clark is looking at him like he is some kind of angel.

 

“You are beautiful. Don't hide your face from me, _adarthĩ.”_

 

Clark doesn't take his eyes off of Bruce as he lowers himself back down, trailing kisses  over  the sirens neck, chest, stomach and hips before placing a kiss at the top of the mounded flesh.

 

Bruce stares in amazement and shock, because he has never thought of such an act as what Clark is about to do.

 

The sailor leaves featherlight  kisses at first,but then he begins to take the predator apart, mouthing over him and finding a certain spot with his tongue that Bruce had never before touched. The feeling of white hot desire spirals down his spine, and Clark rubs relentlessly with thumb as he licks broad stripes over Bruce’s core.

 

The siren is reduced to a sobbing mess, hands scrambling for something and Clark is _groaning_ into it now, hot breath against Bruce’s sensitised skin. When he slips three fingers into him this time and _curls_ Bruce practically screams- the stretch feeling so good and everything going so fast- and he sees constellations and oceans behind his eyes, with bursts of white. Everything stops for a minute and he knows Clark is close too.

 

He’s still riding out his orgasm, but without hesitation, he pulls Clark up towards him, grinding himself against the sailor’s thigh as he bares his fangs and latches onto his mates neck, sinking in his teeth. Clark isn’t even phased by the pain- it will heal-  and he lets out a guttural noise as Bruce licks over the wound, rucking up against the muscles of his upper tail before freezing and then going limp.

 

Somewhere post afterglow, when his vision and senses clear up, Bruce sits up immediately- in horror. _What has he done?_

 

He bit Clark.

He _bit_ Clark.

He bit _Clark._

 

In the middle of his heat, he gave the mating bite, the ultimate siren mark of possession to _Clark_. His fragile human who is entirely breakable-

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

“Again Bruce? I’m a little tired. Do sirens not have refractory periods? If so, how long does your heat last?”

 

“A week, give or take. But that’s not what I meant, Clark. _I bit you_.”

 

“I’m aware. It’s already healing, see?” Bruce breathes in relief.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be _hǐletin,_ I kind of like it. It’s like a way of saying I’m yours. We humans have another way of doing that.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” the sailor replies, tracing his finger over Bruce’s neck. When he lowers his mouth and spends some time suckling on the skin there, nipping and leaving his mark, it turns a dark green rather.

 

“Well that’s interesting. These are usually red or purple.” he murmurs, looking at his work curiously.

 

“If I shift, it will change colours to match my blood type.”

 

“You can shift during heat?”

 

“Much more easily.” They may both be tired, but the cogs in their brains both start turning.

 

“I think this is going to be a good week.”

 

Bruce doesn’t respond but rather rolls over and curls into Clark’s chest, while making sure his tail was in the water. They’ll discuss that later.

  
(Bruce, unfortunately, severely underestimated Clark’s knowledge of siren biology- or any biology for that matter. He wasn’t too fond his legs, but he was less fond of them when he couldn’t _feel them_. No matter what anyone said, he firmly believed Clark was the beast in their relationship- and that was just how he liked it. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS UPDATE TOOK SO LONG GUYS!!!  
> So to make up for it, I made it extra spicy :) 
> 
> I present to you, mermaid sex!
> 
> Also, go check out my other WIP, the fic i mentioned last time. A genderbent batfam fic! Bats and Bras for BatShitCrazy, go read it! Enjoyy!  
> 


	14. I love you, I hate you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final day of Bruce's heat arrives. Clark wants to move on land. Bruce does NOT agree. Clark tries to explain that he can’t live in Gotham bay forever and Bruce tries to use the siren call on Clark to no avail. Bruce leaves angrily, thinking Clark doesn’t love him enough to stay. He notices physical features changing and emotional instability and comes to a grand realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know I put on comment moderating, but please feel free to drop a comment anyways :) You know I LOVE MY READERS :)  
> Enjoy though!

On the sixth day of Bruce’s heat, Clark wakes up to his typical morning wood and not so typically, Bruce’s mouth. On him.

 

“Good-ungh- morning, Bruce.” The siren doesn’t respond- his mouth is otherwise occupied- but he looks up from under his lashes where he has Clark’s pants pooled around at his ankles and his own sleeping shirt was thrown aside haphazardly. After day three Bruce had taken to liking his human form more as he learned about the wonders of the male prostate. Not to mention the variety of positions that _didn’t_ involve getting in the water.

 

Clark runs his hands through Bruce’s hair, pulling it rewardingly, and Bruce moans around his cock, the vibrations carrying as they went.

 

“Someone’s ready to go already. Is it even nine o'clock yet?” Bruce rolls his eyes and raises eight fingers to signal the hour. Bruce pulls off with an obscene pop, and mutters, “You didn’t seem to care about the hour last time.”

 

Clark chuckles and pulls Bruce into his lap for a kiss, and his mate grinds against him in earnest.

 

“I want you in me. _Now_.” He pouts, but it’s clear he’s losing patience.

 

“Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Yes, but I let you sleep for two whole hours after I woke up. **_I need it_ **.” He’s shamelessly uses the call to entrance Clark, but he’s not asking for much, is he?

 

“Tell me what you need then, baby.” Clark isn’t entirely affected, being his mate, but the call doesn’t have more sway over his reasoning than it should. Besides, who is he to deny Bruce anything? The sailor has a gorgeous mate- he’s straddling his lap, tan and _very_ naked, with obscenely blue eyes, and a hot flush that follows from his neck and ears right down to his gorgeous cock- and he’s not particularly inclined to turn him down.

 

“I want to ride you.” Clark groans.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, dammit, I’m offering to do all the work here. Why are you even questioning me, Clark?” His frustration is adorable, and Clark just smiles fondly.

 

“I just wanted to make sure.”

 

“Clark, you’ve practically fucked me into oblivion all week, and made me scream so loud Alfred heard us from Oracle Isle, and you _still_ feel like you need to double check me on what I want?”

 

“Yes.” Bruce smiles devilishly, and leans in to whisper in his mates ear.

 

“Well then, yes Clark, I want to ride you like a rodeo til I either can’t feel my legs anymore or pass out. Happy?” The sailor knows Bruce could be being sarcastic or entirely serious- sometimes it’s hard to tell.  Clark places a kiss on his nose and responds, “Very,” before Bruce is kissing him like a drowning man.

 

He wastes no time sinking his ass onto Clark’s cock, and if there is one thing about siren biology he can appreciate, it’s the self lubrication. Clark lets out a strangled choke, because they’ve been at this five times a day minimum, for the last five days and Bruce is still ridiculously _tight_. The siren dons the blissed out expression he gets every time they do this, and Clark grips his hips to lift him, but his hands are smacked away.

 

“I can do this, Clark.” Bruce’s face is concentrated- nose scrunched up, bitten lips, forehead creased- and he has a very light sheen of sweat over him. When he starts to move is the part the Clark loves. Sirens seem to have no qualms about being vocal, and when there is no one within miles - aside from Alfred who wisely refrains from commenting- his mate likes to get _loud_.

 

Clark believes it’s the heat, because usually Bruce is quiet and controlling and he seems more likely to lead the sex where he wants it, but now? Clark has free reign for the most part and Bruce just _takes it_.

 

Bruce uses his strong thighs to lift himself up and down, and he runs his hand through his hair to keep it out of his face; Clark thinks it’s the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. He runs his hands over Bruce appreciatively, and Bruce actually _preens_. He’s rather fond of praise, so Clark remembers to use it as he says, “You’re so good for me Bruce. You don’t even know how gorgeous you are, do you?” The siren is about to start to move, but the sailor holds him in place.

 

“Not yet, _carissthme_.”

 

Bruce lets out a whine, because he wants to move dammit, but he’s still adjusting.

 

“You should have let me prep you, Bruce.”

 

“ **_Clark, please.._ ** ” His eyes are welling up, and he’s so full and it’s so good, and if Clark would just let him _move_ -

 

“Just a little while longer. You’re so- God- tight.” Bruce finally loses his patience, pressing his hands on Clark’s shoulders, while rapidly lifting his hips and snapping them back down, earning a loud moan from them both. His hands are immediately held, and though he could very well break the sailor’s grip, he doesn’t. It’s a respect thing.

 

“That’s not what we agreed.” Clark is breathless, but Bruce knows he should have listened. If he pissed Clark off, he might have to resort to using his own hands and it’s just not the same.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“We both know you’re not but I’ll accept it. Now, since you want to do things the hard way, I guess we’re going to have to do this slow, aren’t we?”

 

Bruce doesn’t know how he ever thought humans were weak...he wishes he was right though.

-

 

 **_“Clark, please.”_ ** His eyes are red rimmed from crying, and he’s came four times in the last hour- this was after being left to wait painstakingly hard for a whole hour _untouched_ \- and he just wants to be fucked already. He knows Alfred must be wondering why they haven’t eaten anything in couple of hours, but that is self explanatory. Food can wait.

 

 **_“_ ** Not going to work Bruce.” The sailor had been rimming Bruce for almost an hour and Clark just kept him orgasming until it became painful, but his hands were in a grip strong enough to bruise, and he was still _leaking._

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Are you, _carissthme_?”

 

“I am _adarthĩ.”_ Bruce really hopes Clark thinks he’s sorry enough now, because he’s skin is getting too tight and he needs something in him _now,_ or the fangs are coming out.

 

“I believe you. Stay still for me.” The siren doesn’t move an inch, and Clark dutifully lines himself up, and slowly enters the faux-human, breathing sharply and he goes. Bruce doesn’t even breath until Clark is all the way in, and then Clark is moving, and _oh his hips_ \- the sensual glide as he goes in and out- it just makes the siren go crazy.

 

Clark, however is a contrary lover, as Bruce is now well aware. You ask him to kiss you, he leans away, you ask him to go faster, he goes so smooth and slow that you go insane. So wisely, the sea dweller keeps his mouth shut, and just lets Clark give him what he will.

 

“God, Bruce. So perfect, so good,” Clark groans as he starts to move faster. His mate hesitantly moves his hips slightly out of sync so they glide towards each other and it’s heaven. He arches his back, and a wanton moan leaves his mouth and echos off the caverns -he knows there’s no one around to hear him, but he wants _the world_ to know that he is Clark’s.

 

He starts moving his hips backwards faster, forcing Clark to go faster and when Clark hits his prostate he _screams._ The sailor shushes him, kissing his neck, and hits his sensitive bundle of nerves over and over like a marksman while he deftly reaches around and jerks the siren off. That just about does it for him, and Bruce sees white dancing in his vision when he comes this time- it’s ripped out of him like a wave, and he can’t even hear his own voice when he calls Clark’s name, but he knows he did.

 

Clark comes after him with a few more ragged thrusts, and he pulls out, spent and lays next to Bruce.

 

“Do you think we should get something to eat now?”

 

“Maybe in a few minutes. I think that was it.”

 

“It’s over? Your heat I mean.”

 

“I think so.” He cradles into Clark a bit, if only for the warmth, (he’s naked and cold okay?) and falls asleep. He smiles at the kiss placed on his forehead.

 

-

 

For all the good the morning was, it doesn’t last all day.

 

“Bruce, can we talk?”

 

“Sure.” Bruce shoos away the little jellyfish he was talking to- Clark doesn’t ask about their conversation- and looks up.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about moving.” Bruce’s eyebrows furrow in response.

 

“Moving? I don’t think I understand, Clark.” Clark winces.

 

“Moving on land, Bruce. I think we should get a home on the mainland, near the shore I’d hope.”

 

“You want me to do _what_?” There’s an icy disbelief in his voice, like he can’t fathom what his mate is saying.

 

“Bruce, I love you, you know that, but I need things too. I can’t live between the caves in the middle of Gotham Bay and my catamaran for the rest of my life. You can’t either.”

 

Bruce snaps.

 

“I’m not a human, Clark! I might have legs but I was raised in the water! How am I supposed to just go on land and live amongst the same species of people who raped, pillaged and hunted my kind for years?” The sailor looks gobsmacked at the sudden outburst.

 

“Am I not a human, Bruce?”

 

“You’re different.”

 

“I’m really not. I just want what’s best for you Bruce-”

 

“What’s best for me is staying in the sea! I don’t belong there Clark, and I worked my tail off for this territory. I got ripped by sharks, other sirens and sailors to get Gotham Bay and keep it. I earned this home and I can’t just up and leave it to go sit in a brick house all day, away from the ocean. I won’t.” His glare is harsh, with no room for misinterpretation.

 

“Bruce, you can’t ask me to do this.” His sailor’s voice is pleading.

 

“Neither can you, Clark.”

 

“I need to go back. You know I don’t want to leave you, _carissthme_ .” Bruce makes up his mind right then and then there. Clark is _not_ leaving him.

 

 **_“Then don’t. Stay with me Clark, you don’t need them.”_ ** Bruce pours more than the full allure of the siren song into his voice, and guiltily watches as Clark’s eyes go from blue, to a cloudy white, and then black.

 

**_“You don’t want to leave, do you?”_ **

 

Clarks starts shaking himself, and making distressed sounds he tries to fight the call. His eyes flicker between an empty black to a lively blue, and the siren sees the moment that Clark breaks the enchantment, and his eyes take on a furious rage.

 

“ _Y_ _ou used the siren call on me?”_

 

 _“_ Clark-”

 

“No! I trusted you. You’re my mate. You tried to take control of my mind, and force me to stay, when all I wanted to do was build a damned house so we could start a life together, and get a fucking dog or something!”

 

 _“_ Clark-”

 

“Stop it, Bruce. There’s no justifying your actions. You say men are the monsters, but I don’t know that there are words for what you just did.”

 

Clark turns away from him, and Bruce feels tears threatening to run down his face.

“If you don’t want to be around me right now, then fine. I’ll give you some space. If you decide to leave, then I guess I’ll know how you really feel, Clark. Don’t worry- I won’t try to stop you either.”

 

The siren doesn’t wait for an answer, but turns and shed his clothes as he walks, doing a neat dive into the water, and changing back to his true form. His tail hits the water with a splash, and by the time Clark catches his senses enough to try to stop him, Bruce is long gone.

 

-

Bruce avoids Clark for more than a few days. He stays on the other end of the caverns for nearly a week and a half, leaving Clark with Alfred (who attends to him dutifully of course) while he stews angrily. He is _not_ being petty.

 

One evening, he's munching on a minnow when he feels suddenly sick.

 

He examines the fish, and it looks just fine (for something already half eaten and bloody), so he continues eating, although that seems to be a bad idea. Not even five minutes later, he’s expelling all of his lunch into the water next to him, and holding his nose in disgust. The acrid bile of the vomit is not familiar to him, but the scent is all too sharp for his enhanced senses.

 

The sea dweller waits a while before trying to eat again, but he can’t seem to keep anything down. He deigns to lie down, but notices something peculiar. His scales are...lightening. He’s not entirely black anymore, but rather black at the bottom, and his upper scales nearer to his waist look...faded. Like a dusty, dark grey rather than the matte black they used to be.

 

His face pales at the realization, and he slowly brings his fingers up to his neck and- indeed- he now has a second pair of gills. The only time a siren experiences changes like these are when- are when they’re _pregnant_.

 

Well it’s no wonder he blew up at Clark. The hormonal imbalance must have thrown him off. Bruce offhandedly thinks that this makes a lot more sense now.

 

(The only hiccup now is figuring out how to tell Clark he’s going to be a father….)

 


	15. Would you still love me the same?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has to find a way to tell Clark that he’s pregnant but he starts to panic because he doesn’t know if they are ready to be parents, and he can’t tell what species his child will be. Clark convinces Bruce they can’t raise a human child at sea. Bruce accepts and Clark arranges to get them a house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am SOOOO sorry my posting has been erratic lately and I know I promised to update, but I've been so busy with a lot of things and I literally have exams starting on Wednesday, so I can't promise timely updates, but WE ONLY HAVE TWO CHAPTERS LEFT.
> 
> T-T I'm crying. This fic is going so well and next chapter I am going to shout out ALL the people who inspired me to keep writing, and ignore the haters. I recently invoked comment moderating because I was getting a lot of negative feedback, but I don't care about those people anymore. YOU LOVELY READERS are the ones who helped me through everything including my dad's death, and I just want to say how thankful I am for all of you. Feel free to leave a comment below, and I love all of you!❤️️

To say Bruce is panicking is an understatement. His face might have been stoic but there were one hundred and thirty million things going through his mind.

What would Clark think? He probably didn't even want to be a father. What if he _ really _ thinks Bruce to be a monster? What if his child grows up with only one parent? He can’t fathom raising their child alone. The siren loses himself in a fitful state of hysteria, clinging to his rock perch like a limpet, and drearily muttering to himself.

He doesn’t even know how the hell to parent a child. What would he name them? Would he even get sleep? Children cried a lot. Would he be able to switch forms? Sex would be a whole lot less interesting in siren form. Could he even have sex anymore? This whole pregnancy thing was beginning to seem a _ little  _ too scary, and the mere prospect of talking to Clark now put Bruce’s heart in his throat. He absentmindedly rubs his hand over his stomach, and he feels a little warmth at the thought of a growing something in him.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?” The merman looks over at Bruce from where he is tending to the sea flora on the other side of this particular stretch of the caverns.

“How long will I be pregnant for?”

“Well... siren biology is more advanced than human, but if I recall correctly your mother had you for approximately three months.”

“You mean to tell me… I have a little over two  months before this child  _ rips out of me _ like a tidal wave?”

“Approximately. It could be a little more than that depending on the child’s development. You do know that you are going to have to talk to Master Kent sometime, correct?”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean I want to though.” His glare and pout is so childish, Alfred sees all of the little boy he knew so well in those features. Instead of focusing on the nostalgia he simply sighs.

“When you see it fit, you should do so then. I should go see if sir needs anything.”

“Please tell him…,” he pauses and looks away vulnerably, “- tell him I’d like to speak to him, if he would have me. I’ll wait by the catamaran stairs.”

Alfred gives him a soft smile reserved for those moments of need. “Between you and I master Bruce, there is not a bloody chance in hell he  _ wouldn’t _ speak to you. He is your mate, your better half, and I assure you, it hurts him more to be away from you than you him.”

He swims away, leaving Bruce with a lot of food for thought, but not enough food for eating. He rolls his eyes and starts to hum. Shrimp sounds delicious when you’re pregnant.

-

Alfred checks up on Clark, who he looks even more miserable than ever. “Master Kent, are you quite alright?”

“No. I… I miss him, Alfred. It’s been nearly two weeks, and he hasn’t checked on me once. How the hell do I tell him I don’t  _ want _ anymore space?”

“Master Bruce has asked to see you if you wish, sir. I believe he has something important to discuss with you.”

“Oh god- he’s leaving me isn’t he?” His face goes white as a sheet and for a second the butler is worried.

“Perish the thought Master Kent, he is doing nothing of the sort. Perhaps you should go speak to him yourself? He said he would await you alongside your vessel.” The elder gives Clark a small smile and receives one in return.

“Thanks Alfred.”

 

-

When Bruce sees Clark, he physically winces. The man looked like he’d gotten no sleep at all, and he hadn’t even bothered to shave, something Bruce actually was not too fond of. Okay. perhaps twelve days away from Clark  _ was _ being petty. 

He was still mildly angry about their whole argument, but not nearly as much as he could have been. Seeing his mate in such a state was more than enough to soften his heart and before he even knew what he was doing he found himself swimming over to Clark and embracing him tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Clark. Please forgive me.” The sailor sighs deeply, burying his nose in the crook of Bruce’s neck and absentmindedly strokes a soft hand over his mate’s tail in response.

“Bruce, I couldn’t stay mad at you if I tried. God- I just missed you so much, I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, and I was constantly on edge, waiting for a sign that you wanted to talk.”

“I know… I was being entirely unreasonable- a severely hard statement for me to say so _ don’t  _ ask me to repeat- and I want to say I’m sorry too. I overreacted, and I never should have used the call on you like that-”

“Bruce. It’s fine. I’m just glad I have  you back,  _ carissthme _ .”

“I still have something to tell you…” Bruce pulls away, and Clark becomes worried. The siren turns his back to the sailor, and there’s a bright flush making its way up his neck.

“Bruce? Is there something wrong then?” The siren turns back to him, and his eyes are watering, as he can barely look his mate in the eye.

“Clark….  _ Adarthi…  _ I’m- I’m pregnant.”

The air is silent for a moment, and neither of them are breathing, but that’s right before tears start streaming down the siren’s face.

“I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t know-”

“Bruce, stop.” The half fish looks up at him with a tear streaked face, marred with confusion.

“You of all people should know me better than that, Bruce. What are you sorry for? For getting  _ pregnant? _ ”

“ _ Adarthi _ , you’re going to be a father. I didn’t know how you would react, and I’m not a-”

“If you say you’re not a human one more time, Bruce I swear to God I will drown myself. I know you’re not human,  _ carissthme. _ Do you think that means I love you any less? All I wanted was for us to settle down and be happy, and now you’ve done me one better and told me we’re having a child. Why on earth do you think I would be upset?”

“I don’t know…” Bruce buries his head in his hands, scraping his hair out of his face, “I just assumed, and I got so scared- for the first time in a long time Clark… I was terrified and it was  _ not _ pleasant.”

“Look at me, B.” When cerulean and cobalt meet, the siren goes lax. “I will love you no matter what you are, and if I have to say that a million times I will. I’m not going to leave you, okay? Not you or your child.”

His smile is wider than ever, and Bruce brings their lips together in a smashing kiss, just to show how truly remorseful he is, and his grip on Clark is tight enough to bruise.

“I love you, Clark.” The sailor adorably scrunches up his nose, and sniffs.

“Here I was thinking I was just a lunch platter.” Bruce smacks his shoulder playfully, and the two of them squish their behinds into the relatively small staircase of the catamaran that levels into the water.

“How long have you been pregnant?”

"I’m guessing for the time of conception and the development, but we could say two weeks and approximately three or four days. Which means we don’t have a lot of time.”

Clark's face looks beautifully confused. “Uh… how long do siren pregnancies last,  _ adarthi _ ?”

“About three months give or take. The fetus develops quite quickly.”

“Wow, so we have about ten weeks before a little siren starts splashing about?”

“I should hope so, but I don’t know for sure Clark… there are incidents of human-born siren children. We can’t know the species of the child just yet.”

“What do you mean? The child could be hu- like me?”

“It’s entirely possible. The fetus could be a pup or a baby. We’ll only know after they are born. But whether or not the child is human, all siren born have abilities, Clark.”

Clark freezes for a minute. “Wait- we might have a toddler that can  _ light things on fire?  _ Bruce, I am not fireproof like you so please tell me you can handle-”

His mate chuckles in response, “ _ Carissthme _ , the child, siren or not, won’t have the same powers as me; that’s practically unheard of. If they take after you, they will likely elemental powers like mine, but not fire.”

“This is a lot to process. Is there any instances of powerless children?”

“Not that I know of… we will just have to train them the hard way. Just as every other siren did. If it makes you feel better, I burnt Alfred thirty seven times before I was even two years old.”

“Well that’s comforting. I’m going to have a baby that might potentially be able to freeze my fingers off. How nice.” His sarcasm is a fond one, and he rolls his eyes to match, making Bruce think he is rubbing off on his mate a bit too much.

“You were right about one thing however, but if you say I told you so, I will not hesitate to drown you.”

“Oh really?” Clark looks mildly smug and amused but waits for Bruce’s continuation.

“If we don’t know what species the child will be… it would still be in our best interest to- to get a house on the land.”

He looks away indignantly but Clark smiles like a madman.“Okay, I’ll start looking from tomorrow! We can have whatever kind of house you want, baby.”

“Don’t push the envelope, Kent.” He’s reigning in his smile, because he isn't going to let his mate off the hook just yet.

“Come on Bruce, we can get a nice beach front house somewhere with a salt pool… and we can design the baby’s room however you want. Just think about it, B. The only downside is you’re going to have to be in human form most of the time.”

“After the baby changing forms will be easiest. But if you want me to move on land you might want to find another pawn shop then.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to want a lot of stuff, and you have  _ no idea  _ how much gold I can find.”

“You’re being serious aren’t you? You’re going to pawn off a gigantic pile of old Spanish relics so you can have a mansion on a beach that you’ll likely be able to buy.”

“Gotham Bay is loaded with it Clark, and when it comes to sea treasure there is one rule. If you find it, it's yours. Also, in man’s world money is power. I like the sound of that.”

 

“Oh boy.” Clark looks horrified, and Bruce simply smiles and pets his head. He gets the eerie feeling that his mate is going to be one very high maintenance human.

 

-

As it would turn out, Alfred is very familiar with the nature of human life and behavior, and as such becomes a crutch to Bruce, seeing as he accompanied Arthur around when he spent his time on land. The next three weeks  are very aggravating, and the siren is slowly starting to eat more and more while getting progressively snappish.

Clark finds it adorable.

“Now, Master Bruce when you need to relieve yourself, what do you ask?”

“Where’s the bathroom- Clark, why can’t you teach me this nonsense?”

“Because you’d get distracted. I’m going to head out again today, but I think this place is the one.”

-

 

Clark had gone and pawned off an overly large portion of gold, leaving him with more money than he felt comfortable with, but Bruce had wanted a _whole beach_ , so it the sum of cash seemed feasible. He had been out hunting down an estate that fit all of his mates criteria, but so far Bruce hadn’t liked any of them. The likelihood of them actually buying a beach was little to none. Maybe somewhere with a lake would work? The real estate agent seemed like a nice girl, and didn’t question Clark’s inability to bring his partner with him while the went house hunting either. Silena, after all,  helped find what Clark now thought was the perfect place. It was a large mansion in Gotham City, that had an underground cavern system with salt springs and a waterfall. She’d thought the water might draw his partner to the house.

“It’s perfect, Selina. Bruce will love it, I’m sure.”

She smiles and hands him a folder with different shots of the house for Bruce to see and says, “I have a good feeling about this one too.”

 

-

Bruce loves the house. He practically melts over the salt springs and he and Alfred start nitpicking over how effective it would be for him to have his water birth in there. Clark wraps his arms around his mate, hugging him from behind, and rubbing his belly soothingly. The siren melds into his touch, and he covers Clark’s hands with his own, while they both make massaging circle on his more rounded stomach. “Bruce, there are way too many rooms in in the manor though.”

“That won’t be a problem Master Kent. They will all be put to efficient use, or made into guest rooms.”

“As long as you two know what you are doing then.”

“Don’t worry, Clark. Arthur said he would find us the best interior designer for what I want.”

“Should I call Selina and tell her we’ll take the house then?”

“Tell her we’ll take the whole estate. I want a two mile radius around the whole house.”

“Woah, Bruce. Why exactly do we need all that space?”

“We don’t, but if we’re going to be rich we might as well do it right.”

Clark bursts out laughing and his mate kisses his cheek before going back to his very serious discussion on the water filtration system for the house. He watches the two of them and how prepared they are to face the world and ensure his child gets the best of everything. He can just imagine them raising this baby and it brings a smile to his face. Then suddenly he realises something.

“Bruce… what are we naming the baby?”

“Richard. The siren translation means defender of the weak.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“Call it maternal intuition.” The siren hasn’t stopped rubbing his belly but for a moment Alfred freezes. Then Bruce freezes too. The baby is  _ kicking. _

“Why, Master Bruce, it appears the young ward is responding to his father’s voices.” The elder looks pleasantly surprised, dusting off his jacket seeing as both he and Bruce had forgone their tails for convenience. When they both look down, a footprint was lightly pressed against Bruce’s stomach, moving slightly. Clark’s expression is almost reverent and he kneels in front of his mate, bringing his head to Bruce’s belly. He can hear their child moving around, and he laughs.

Bruce the whole time is still silent, because this is the first time the baby’s kicked. He does manage to let out a pealing laugh as his face breaks into a splitting grin, because when Clark pulls away, Richard’s tiny little hand is pressed firmly against his belly, and his sailor’s shocked face is beautiful.

“That’s our son in there, B. That’s my little boy.”

“Yes he is. With the way he’s moving, we might have ourselves a gymnast.”

All three men laugh uncontrollably, and Bruce thinks this moment is the best one he’ll ever have.

 (But life as he knows it will keep getting better and better.)

  
  
  
  



	16. Painful Beauties, Ocean Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve settled into their house in Gotham, where Bruce is now heavily pregnant and must stay in siren form. Drama ensues as Alfred and Tamara tries to deliver the baby, but it turns out there is birth complications and Alfred has to deliver the baby underwater. Happy parenting emotional moments occur after dick is born :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I feel like I have been apologising at the beginning of every chapter, but I had exams, and everything was hectic before school finally closed on Thursday. So I've just settled in for the holidays, and decided to gift you all with this beauty before the 17th because I refuse to say I made you all wait a month for this. So... it hasn't been a month. Lol! Enjoy!❤️️

By the time Bruce is just about ready to have the baby, the house has become more of a home. Yes, Alfred may have kept the place meticulously, but there’s no denying the homey feel of slightly chipped mugs, opera music playing at maximum volume, and the endless bowls of potpourri placed around by Bruce.

 

With time, Richard likes to make his presence known. The siren finds he likes to move a lot, and if you wake up with his foot imprinting on your stomach, you most certainly will fall asleep with some other appendage plastered against the taut skin. The baby responds very well to voices and music,and it warms his heart to see the little one so active from even in the womb. Dick, as Clark chooses to call him, has no sense of timing whatsoever.

 

The child, Bruce thinks objectively, is too much like his father.

 

Clark is out on a long errand, and in the last trimester of his pregnancy, Bruce is forced to stay in Siren form to protect his vital organs. He stays in the salt pool for most of the time, but it can only get so interesting after the first few days. His beloved butler and mate had set up a birthing place for him just out of the water, and when he was truly bored, the siren would swim over and inspect all the tools they had set up.

 

He is taking a leisurely swim when he gets a strange feeling, and notices the water turning a bright, iridescent orange around him. He’s shocked for a few moments before it hits him.

 

His water broke.

 

His _water_ broke.

 

His water _broke._

 

So he does what any dignified person does in this situation, when their baby is five days before due date. He screams.

 

-

 

“Master Bruce, you need to breathe!” Alfred’s face is rather concerned, and he ignores the fact that Bruce is basically crushing the bones in his hand in favour of guiding him through the birth.

 

“Don’t tell me to breathe, I need my mate! I am pushing a fucking brat out of my cervix, and he kind of had something to do with it! Get him here, _now_!” Bruce’s eyes look like hell fire, and the butler fears for Clark’s safety when he returns.

 

“I’m afraid Master Kent forgot his phone in the kitchen…”

 

The initial silence is deafening. The butler cringes right before the screaches start

 

“We bought him the latest fucking phone for him to leave it in the- oh my god when do the contractions stop? I’m going to kill him! ” Bruce does not seem to be reacting well to the pain, and he slowly gets more feral by the minute, fangs elongating and eyes glowing eerily. His breathing is laboured, and Alfred prays that Tamara finds Clark on her way to the Manor.

 

-

 

Tamara is driving through Gotham like a mad woman- and when she gets her hands on Clark, she might be sorely tempted to smack him. What kind of mate forgets his phone at home when they are expecting a child? She makes a close park outside of the building where Alfred told her the sailor should be, skidding her coupe into a small spot between a Chevy and a BMW. Her heels clack on the tiles of the nicely furnished business, before she sniffs him out, stomping into some random woman’s office, and grabbing him by the ear.

 

 ** _“Sorry- I need to borrow him for an unspecified period of time, Ma’am. Enjoy your day.”_** She smiles maniacally at the lady whose eyes fog over and turn a misty white.

 

“Ow-Tamara- Ow, you can’t just use the- _stop pulling me!”_

 

“Get. In. The car.” She says this through gritted teeth, barely controlling her eyes from changing to their typical bright purple.

 

“What’s wrong?” His head hits the back of the seat when she pulls out of her spot, and starts maneuvering through traffic at breakneck speeds. He quickly pulls on his seatbelt so he doesn’t die.

 

“Bruce is in labour.” She doesn’t look away from the road, but her expression is livid, and he’s trying to fathom what he did wrong.

 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

 

“Are you kidding me? You little-” The pod leader looks ready to blow steam out of her nose, and Clark finally begins to smell of fear, which makes her smirk, if just a little.

 

“Your phone, Clark. Where is it?”

 

“Its right here in my pocket-” except when the sailor checks his pocket his expression deflates. It’s not in his pocket.

 

“It’s on the kitchen counter. Which is why we couldn’t reach you. It’s also the reason your mate is going to rip you to ribbons when you get home. It was nice knowing you, Kent.” She still hasn’t looked away from the road, and the view outside is now a blur of forestry greens, signalling that they are near to home.

 

The human takes on a pale face and gulps. This is not going to end well for him.

 

-

 

“Oh my Triton fucking wave pools, that _hurts! **Somebody get this baby out of me, now.”**_

 

“Master Bruce, your call will not work on me, nor will it make Master Dick appear any sooner. You also know as well as I do that I cannot deliver the child alone, so I suggest you practice your breathing exercises until assistance arrives.”

 

“Well I suggest you go fuc-”

 

“Master Bruce! You should try to breath, and not test my wavering patience like an insolent child. Mistress Tamara has said she and Master Kent are en route.” His glare hardens, and Bruce glowers silently, cursing in his native tongue when the contractions return with a fury, and his face contorts in agony.

 

A resounding slam comes from the front door and the scent of fear wafts in like a daydream to Bruce.

 

Tamara comes speeding in with Clark in her shadow, and she immediately turns to Alfred.

 

“How long have the contractions been going on for?” she asks.

 

“Nearly forty minutes.” The butler replies.

 

Bruce watches his mate with a calm gaze. His breathing is still heavy and his abdomen receives shocks like lightning every few moments, but he motions Clark over with a wave of his hand. His tail however still flicks dangerously as though it has a mind of its own.

 

“Come lower. I can’t see you from there.”

 

“Like this?” The sailor lowers himself to his knees in front of Bruce.

 

“Yes, perfect.”

 

The slap rings out loudly, and Tamara and Alfred both jump. Clark was expecting it.

 

**_“Leave your phone at home again, and I will literally rip you to pieces, am I understood?”_ **

 

Clark nods silently, before Bruce starts groaning again, and hissing in siren tongue.

 

“Tamara, get this baby _out of me!_ ” Clark rushes to Bruce’s side again, ignoring the ringing in his ears, and when he puts out his hand for Bruce to hold, there is a subtle cracking noise as the siren attempts to rearrange the bones in his fingers.

 

“Bruce, I am going to need you to follow my breathing okay?” The woman then begins a set of deep breathing exercises, and Bruce follows suit, face scrunching in pain now and again.

 

“I’m going to need you to lower your tail fin, so I can take a look  and see how much dilation is going on under there, okay?” Bruce nods, and slowly unfurls his fin which was in a position very much like cradling one’s knees to their chest.

 

“Okay, Alfred I need a cloth and some warm water here. Clark, try to keep him calm.”

 

After a few moments of some inspections that the human doesn’t understand, Tamara looks up with a grave expression.

 

“We’re at about four and a half centimetres of dilation, but Bruce… the baby is in breech.”

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.”

 

“I’m sorry,Bruce. We can try to do a cesarean section but you might bleed out… however, if the child is siren, the delivery will need to be underwater.” Bruce pales slightly at the thought of a knife near him, and grips Clark’s hand more tightly.

 

“We shall have to wait then, until the child presents before attempting to submerge Master Bruce.”

 

“No need,” says Tamara, wiping away at Bruce, “My eyesight is more than perfect, and I see scales.”

 

Clark releases a breath he didn’t know he’d  been holding. The baby is a siren. Thank God.

 

“How the hell do you expect me to get into the water when I am practically beached on this thing, and as big as a house, Tamara?”

 

“I’ll help you, B.”

 

Bruce looks over at Clark with watery eyes, and the sailor gives him a reassuring smile, before helping him to get off the pedestal table. The predator wraps his arms around the human’s neck, and with some difficulty, the two of them manage to make it into the pool. By the time they are finished, Tamara has already shifted, and is tying back her hair into a braid.

 

“If you’d follow me, please.” She swims to the very bottom of the pool, and Bruce slowly sinks down, not even bothering to swim. Clark couldn’t see very much from there- because the water was very blurry- but after about six hours of nervous  the butler leans over his shoulder and smiles.

 

“Our young ward is out, Master Kent.” His grey eyes light up with joy, and there is mirth in his unresigned smile as he organises the last of the materials they had set up.

 

“When can I see him?” Alfred’s face crinkles a bit before he responds. He seems reluctant to reply.

 

“Unfortunately not for a week or so. Siren children need to adjust to the oxygen level slowly, before they learn to switch between using their gills and their lungs. I will gradually raise the level of oxygen in the water for the next few days and hopefully by Sunday evening, Master Bruce will be well rested enough to bring him and the baby to the surface.”

 

“Will they be okay?” Alfred rolls his eyes.

 

“They are creatures of the water you know; they will survive just fine under there. I would suggest you keep your mate well fed is all.”

 

“Thank you, Alfred.”

 

“It’s only my job, Master Kent.” The sailor leans in close to the edge of the pool, and sees his mate curled into a small lump, holding their child in his arms, with a small blue tail twitching feverishly. He breathes a small sigh.

 

-

 

“Okay, I’m going to guide Bruce and Richard up to the surface, but you must try your best not to fluster the baby, okay Clark?”

 

“Yes, I heard you. No touching the gills, no rough handling the fragile fins, and no screeching.”

 

“Basically.”

 

When she ducks under the water and rises back with Bruce and a giggling baby siren, the human has to hold back a gasp.

 

“C-can I hold him?” Bruce rolls his eyes.

 

“He’s your son too.” Bruce gently hands over the child to Clark, who holds him as if he is the most delicate thing in the world.

 

“Hi there little guy…” Dick looks at him with bright blue eyes and sticks out his chubby little hands to grab at Clarks face. When his father leans closer, his stout slippery fingers latch onto a lock of hair, and when he finally lets it go, it forms a perfect ‘S’.

 

Clark chuckles, and the baby peels with laughter. “That’s my boy.” He cradles the boy near to his chest and the child croons softly. Dick gazes at him and his eyes seem to switch from dark blue, to light blue to grey...and it’s almost mesmerising.

 

“I forgot to mention, don’t stare into his eyes for too long,  Clark. Babies can’t control the call.”

 

Clark snaps his head up, and looks at Bruce with an exasperated expression.

 

“You didn’t think to mention that before, B?”

 

“Oops?” The half-fish shrugs his shoulder innocently as though this weren’t vital information.

 

Clark facepalms with his free hand and the baby laughs, smacking his whole tail against his father’s chest with joy.

 

“It seems like the kid finds you funny.”

 

“That’s good, because we both know I have a sense of humour that’s an acquired taste.”

 

“Sirs, if you would look up please?” The butler sounds concerned; an unusual occurence.

 

Both Clark and Bruce look upwards, and their eyes go wide. Around them in the cave, are little glowing orbs of light in iridescent blue, silver and white, and they all seem to be gravitating towards the baby. They dance around like they are being controlled, and the siren looks over to the pod leader.

 

“Tamara are you doing that?”

 

“No… I think- I think it’s the baby.” The two men look down at their son who was still giggling and waving his arms, and with every motion, the little orbs moved with him.

 

“He has his powers already?” asks the sailor.

 

“It would appear our little boy is a light master.” Bruce’s fond smile makes his eyes shine, and his skin glow, and Clark wonders how when he will stop falling in love with this man.

 

“That’s good right?”

 

“Yes. For now.” Clark goes to ask another question, then realises that he doesn’t want to know the answer.

He carefully cradles the baby closer to him, whispering in hushed tones, and sits next to Bruce at the edge of the pool as the little orbs surround their blooming family, and brings hope for a bright future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys the final chapter is going to be posted on HOPEFULLY New Year's Eve... and WE'RE GETTING FANART!!!!!!!  
> Yes, I made some requests, and there is fanart to come, so I hope you guys like this... Just a bit longer to wait, but you guys will get the happy, fluffy epilogue you were looking for, mkay? Love you all a ton and THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! Mwuah!


	17. I'd swim the ocean blue, Just to get to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue here, nothing more to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, THIS IS IT. KMTMBA IS COMING TO AN END. (ALSO THIS UPDATE IS EARLY LMAO)
> 
> I would like to say thank you to all my readers, especially those of you who helped me through all my hard times while writing this story.  
> I want to say special thanks to owls_and_horses, and Katie_Barton for inspiring me to write this fic, and my regular readers like Anosb, Calliope_Soars, BatShitCrazy and all you amazing people who left me comments to lift my spirits when writing became hard or when I lost my inspiration. 
> 
> You have been with me for these six months writing this story, and I cannot thank all of you enough for sticking around. I really hope you enjoy this last one, and there will be more to come, because I am making the siren DC universe into a series. Feel free to drop a comment, and Merry Christmas!! (Hope you like your gift)
> 
> Love,
> 
> Jessica❤️️

Clark stares at the gold wedding band on his hand, angling it this way and that way so it catches the afternoon light. It’s been twenty years since he and Bruce were married, and he still can’t help but smile at the shining ring adorning his ring finger. He walks through the door and out to the back lawn, breathing in the fresh air.

 

Bruce and Dick had just come back from a grocery run for more snacks, and Damian was sure to be around somewhere. The two other resident humans besides himself-Tim and Jason- were in the kitchen because Clark had sent them to get the supplies to set up the barbeque.

 

It was the fourth of July, and Clark loved having big celebrations amongst the family, so he even told the boys they could invite a friend each. Dick had said he was inviting his boyfriend Wally, while Jason said Roy would be coming, Tim meekly asked if Conner would be permitted to join, and Damian declared Colin would be arriving as well.

 

He was fine with all of this, of course, but expectedly Bruce was still a little skeptical. Even after all these years he still had a healthy dose of dislike for the majority of the human race; this was no surprise.

 

“What if they find out? You can’t possibly think the boys are going to keep our lifestyles from their friends, much less a boyfriend forever, Clark.” He folds his arms and leans against the back wall, not agreeing with his mate’s choice.

 

“Bruce, letting four more people into the circle wouldn’t be catastrophic you know.” Clark looks around clumsily for the grill lighter and can’t find it.

 

“Yes, but what if Dick and Wally breakup? What happens if Colin and Damian stop talking?” Bruce takes pity on Clark, summoning a fireball and throwing it onto the doused coals in the midst of their conversation. After several years of seeing the man casually summon fire, it doesn’t bother him, not to mention the fact that his youngest and his eldest also had gifts.

 

“Then we deal with that as it comes. But realistically, I think Wally might be the one.” Clark wipes his glasses on the apron to clean them quickly.

 

“You mean Wally West… the spastic, long legged, track dork whose whole body shakes like a newborn giraffe every time I come around? You think he’s Dick’s mate?” Clark chuckles gently, tending the grill as he side eyes Bruce.

 

“You may not have realized this, but the poor guy finds you terrifying.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “He’s a kid. So is Dick.”

 

Clark makes a deadpan expression. “He’s twenty two, Bruce. That’s only a year older than Dick is anyways. They’ve been together for nearly three years now, too.”

 

“Really? Are you sure, Clark?” To say that Bruce ignores Wally at times is an understatement.

 

The man in question just facepalms.

Obnoxious laughter breaks out from behind him, and he turns around to see Jason and Tim smiling, bringing in the stuff for the barbeque.

 

Jason is gesturing wildly as he talks to Tim, “So I had to strip down to my underwear and run across the hallway to distract Roy and Wally while Dick practically jumped out of the water, because he forgot they were coming over-”

 

“Oh my gosh, when are you guys going to tell them?”  interjects Tim. He runs his hands through his hair that’s getting a bit shaggy now. Jason gives him a squeamish look as though he’s not comfortable discussing it.

 

“Well, uh-Papa trusts them but you know Dad, he’s still a little skeptical of outside humans sometimes… I’m sure he’ll come around though. I hope he does, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep covering for Dick.”

 

“Yeah, Damian’s getting sloppy with hiding too. I had to turn on the emergency lock on the cave last week because Colin’s gotten comfortable. He doesn’t call before he swings by anymore.”

 

“Huh, looks like the red heads are the weakness of the Wayne siren boys. How interesting.”

“Firstly, that’s hypocrisy because Roy’s a redhead, and secondly I’d pay to see the look on Wally’s face when he finds out his boyfriend is a siren.”

 

“Come on, what’s the big difference. The guy’s putty in Dick’s hand anyways. I don’t think he even _needs_ the call. Also, what’s Roy got to do with it? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

 

“Mhm… I believe you Jay.” His side eye and and sly grin says otherwise.

 

“What’s that punk?” Jason’s face has gone red with embarrassment, and he looks like he’s a split second away from dropping the food and wrangling with his brother.

 

“Come on boys, lets get this food going,” Clark calls, tying on his apron, and effectively ending the conversation.

 

Bruce watched silently, but he was listening to every word.

 

-

 

When all the guests for their little party arrived, it was a lovely get together. Clark watched as his boys mingled with their friends, while he, Bruce, Arthur and Tamara enjoyed drinks and shared stories.

 

Damian and Colin were arguing with Tim and Conner over the best gaming modules, while Jason and Roy were having a hushed conversation under the arbor. Dick had gone to refill the cooler, and his boyfriend was approaching the group of adults with a passion in his step.

 

When Wally walked over though, he looked nervous.

 

“Mr. Wayne, Mr. Kent- uh… can I have a moment to speak to you?”

 

“Sure, Wally. Do you want to talk in private?” Clark shoots a pointed glare at Jason who had paused his conversation, and was obviously eavesdropping.

 

“If you don’t mind, yeah.” He wrings his sweaty palms together, and constantly fidgets for the whole walk inside, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

 

They led him into the office and Clark gestured for him sit down, but he remained standing.

 

“Look, I just wanted to say that I really care about Dick and he means the world to me. We’ve been together for two years, ten months and  two weeks today. I really want to show him that I take this relationship seriously and that he’s the only one I want to be with, but I feel like he’s hiding something from me.”

 

The redhead looks at them wide expectant eyes, and Clark and Bruce have a non verbal conversation. This of course involves a lot of eyebrow twitching, scoffs, grunts and glaring.

 

“Wally, what are you trying to say, son?” asks the sailor gently.

 

“I… I want to marry him. I thought I would come ask you for your blessing first, but if there’s something going on that I need to know, please- just tell me.”

 

“Wow...I’d be honoured if you would join our family, Wally. You’ve been nothing but good to our boy, isn’t that right, Bruce?” He looks at his mate who has an expression on his face that usually means no good.

 

“Sorry about this Clark.” He runs a hand through his hair and takes off his faux glasses that matches Clark’s.

 

 _“Bruce no_ -”

 **_“Wally, tell me your heart’s true feelings about Dick, please._ ** ”

 

Wally’s eyes go milky white, he takes a deep breath and then starts to talk.

 

“I love him. I don’t know how I do so much, and some days it feels like my heart is going to burst, but I love him. I want to be with him till I die, and I want to memorise his laugh and the way he growls when I steal the tv remote and how he practically draws light to him when he’s happy. I want to adopt kids, and get a dog, and move into a house with him. I want to wake up to him, breathe the same air, share the same heart and be his everything. I want… I want to marry him.”

 

“Bruce…” The siren relinquishes his hold on the boy, who stumbles backwards against the desk, horrified at his loss of brain to mouth filter.

 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ramble like that-” Wally starts.

 

“It’s not your fault Wally. I believe you; you’ve earned my blessing.”

 

“Thank you so much sir!” The red head is bouncing with joy, and his grin is bright enough to light up a room. Clark however is still simmering at Bruce’s rash actions.

 

“You might want to talk to Dick before you propose though. I think he has something to tell you.” says Clark, looking sharply at Bruce, who just arches a brow.

 

“Uh sure… I’ll talk to him.”

 

Bruce and Clark have another silent conversation, and Wally politely stares and the Ming vase while picking invisible lint off of his shirt. From the looks of it, he thinks Clark won.

 

When they are done, the scarier of the two speaks first.

 

“Wally, I’m sorry. I know you feel as though Dick is keeping something from you, and he is...but it’s because I told him to. We’re an extremely tight knit family as you may notice, and I like to keep everything under wraps. I think it’s best if you all find out anyways.”

 

“Uh...you all? This is a group thing now?” He scratches the back of his neck and doesn’t seem to understand.

 

“You, Roy, Conner and Colin, he means.” Clark says gently.

 

“You guys aren’t like...Mafia right?”

 

The two men start laughing heartily, and Wally laughs nervously with them.

 

“No Wally, we’re not part of any mob.” Bruce seems genuinely amused, so the track runner thinks he is doing okay.

 

“How about we all meet up and wait in the cave then?” Clark suggests, looking at Bruce for confirmation.

 

“You grab the boys then, I’ll get Alfred and the guests.”

 

-

 

The four humans aside from Clark, Tim and Jason look around nervously and the seafolk try to repress their laughter.

 

“Dad, why are we here again?” Dick looks a little confused, and Jason looks bored, instead opting to lean against Roy lazily, gripping his red hoodie and poking him absentmindedly. Tim clearly knows what’s going on, because he has a poker face on, and Damian sits next to Jason, while trying to gauge Colin’s reactions.

 

“I think it’s time we… enlightened our guests as to the nature of our family, Dick…”

 

“Wait. Are you serious?” The eldest has wide eyes, and a hopeful expression that reminds Bruce everything of when he was just a little seapup barely able to gurgle. He holds his calm facade and replies bluntly.

 

“Yes. But I think it would be better to show them, don’t you think?”

 

Roy, Wally and Conner look confused while Colin looks back and forth between Bruce and Dick.

 

“Okay, who’s turn is it?”

 

“I’m not volunteering. I’m old with four kids.” Clark then looks at Damian and Dick, motioning for them to decide between themselves, and leave their father out of it.

 

“I don’t understand. What’s going on here?” asks Conner, looking like a confused puppy.

 

“Wait for it. Don’t ask. Just wait.” replies Tim, with mirth in his voice.

 

“Come on little D, can you do it?”

 

“Tt. Excuse me? I’m not wrinkling my outfit, this is designer. You’re wearing a v-neck for crying out loud, _you do it._ ”

 

Dick sighs, but resignedly accepts his fate. “Always me, just because I’m the oldest. I swear you guys are cruel.” He takes his ponytail out and stings Wally with the rubberband. The redhead flinches and grabs the offending thing with a laugh.

 

Then to the amusement of some, and shock of others, he begins to strip.

 

“Master Dick, please don’t leave your clothes in a pile on the floor.” Alfred seems unfazed, and Roy and Conner just watch him in shock while Colin looks at Damian who shakes his head.

 

“Sure thing, Alfred. Humans please step away from the splash zone,” he says as he picks up his jeans and shirt.

 

“Humans? Why do you say that like you’re an alien or something?” asks Colin, speaking up for the first time, and somewhat nervous.

 

“Not quite alien, but you’ll see in a minute, Wilkes.” replies Damian. The boys step away from the water anyways, but they are all rather skeptical as to why the man needs to strip.

 

Dick enters the water right as Damian covers Colin’s eyes, and Tim turns Conner’s head away. There is a wet slap as Dick throws his boxers across to the other side of the room.

 

“Was that his underwear?!?” Roy asks, looking between Jason and Bruce.

 

“Yes,” answers Clark before turning to his son, “Nothing too showy please, Dick.”

 

“No promises Papa.” Before anyone else can try to figure out what’s going on, he starts to move.

 

He ducks under the water, and Tamara and Arthur roll their eyes, because they know exactly what he’s going to do. A few seconds later, he comes diving up out of the pool in a dolphin jump, and flicking his bright blue tail like someone waving hello, before falling back into the water with a small splash.

 

“What just happened?” asks Roy softly. He slowly slides down the wall and Jason pats his head gingerly because he looks as though he’s in shock.

 

Conner just...faints.

 

“Don’t worry dad. I got him,” says Tim, using Jason’s help to drag him off to the side. The two of them carry him across the room, while Roy and Colin watch the whole ordeal like an episode of Maury.

 

Dick comes up to the edge of the pool, looking nervously at Wally. He self consciously tucks a lock of wet hair behind his ears, and doesn’t look at his boyfriend at all. Wally slowly stoops and gradually gets on his knees to be nearer to him.

 

“I can explain?”

 

“So… this is the big secret? My boyfriend is a merman.”

 

“Not quite. I’m a siren… just a little different.”

 

Wally still looks awed. Dick’s eyes glow beautifully and his hair curls damply just past his shoulders. His tail is like something out of a movie, and it glides up and down, threading water gently with varying shades of blue shimmering as he moved like some kind of magic.

 

“I don’t care.” Wally looks him in the eye, and leans closer till their noses touch.

 

“You don’t?” It’s barely a whisper, but everyone present hears it because the room is so quiet.

 

“Dick, you’re still the same man I’ve been dating for almost two years now, and this doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are and if I can’t accept it, then I don’t deserve you. Actually… before you mentioned all of this, I asked your dads for their blessing because I was going to propose to you. Tonight, during the fireworks show.”

 

There’s a collective gasp from everyone in the room, aside from Alfred. (He’s not surprised at all; it’s a very difficult feat.)

 

“Was...You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

 

“I never said that, but I still can’t give you this ring can I?” he says as he pulls out a velvet box, but ceases to open it, his face a sombre mask. No one in the room is even breathing now.

 

“Why not? I thought you didn’t care if I was a siren? Wally please don’t do this...”

 

“I have to. I’m taking the ring back Dick.” He looks at the ground and his lips form a thin line.

 

“I’m sorry Wally. This is all my fault.” The siren’s eyes are watering now, and he wipes his hand across his face.

 

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault I didn’t get a waterproof ring.” He finally stops holding in his smile and grins like crazy before Dick smacks hard on the shoulder.

 

“You idiot! You scared me!”

 

Laughter erupts from the entire room, and Wally’s face goes red.

 

“Marry me?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Dick pulls him in close with one hand, and he didn’t think it was possible for one person to blush so much, before he drags him down for a kiss.

 

 

The room erupts in claps and cheering and Arthur uses some of his magic to make the water take the shape of dolphins jumping out, while Colin and Roy watch with wide eyes.

 

Conner wakes up, and after some blushing on his part, and a lot of explaining, Tim helps him off the floor and he goes over to the couple to wish them congratulations.

 

-

The best part of the night is the fireworks. The display goes on in bright whites, blues and reds off the pier, and they can see it perfectly from the waterfront behind the manor. Wally has his hands around  Dick’s waist, and in the midst of the fireworks the siren pulls him in for a kiss, and suddenly the place starts to glow.

 

Lights the size of tennis balls start forming all over the waterfront, and Jason sighs, batting one to the left before eventually giving up.

 

Suddenly all the nighttime Jasmines start to bloom like crazy and when Bruce looks over, Colin and Damian are sitting next to each other on a stone bench, and the little freckled beauty has Damian’s hand in his, while his son blushes like crazy.

 

He refrains from smiling, but instead pokes Clark and nods his head towards the two, to show his mate the sweet moment.

 

When he looks back at Jason and Roy, they are both sitting on a branch up in the trees, but he can make out Jason’s head leant against the other, and Roy running his hands through soft hair. He knows they haven’t decided anything, but above all else, he only wants his son to be happy, and if Roy Harper can do that, the boy is more than welcome in his home.

 

“Have you seen Tim?” He directs the question softly at Clark who is sipping a brandy and barely watching the fireworks at all.

 

“He looks pretty comfortable over there with Conner.” He points to a spot of grass on the left, and the two have a blanket out on the cold grass to block the dew, legs and arms tangled not even bothering to pretend they were looking at the fireworks.

 

“Are they even watching the show?” Bruce chuckles, but to be honest, he hardly looked after the first minute, even though the point of coming outside was to watch the display.

“No. Why watch that when we all have something brighter to look at?”

 

Bruce smiles and looks away, because even after years of marriage Clark always manages to sweep him off his feet.

 

“Tonight was perfect. Thank you, Clark.”

 

“I love you, _carissthme_.”

 

“And you take my breath away, _adarthi_.”

 

Bruce pulls Clark in for a kiss, and it tastes like brandy and sugar and everything perfect wrapped up into one, and even all these years later they still kiss like they’re drowning in each other, and the sailor finds that ironically beautiful.

 

When they pull away, and their foreheads still touch, Clark still sees those eyes, blue like the ocean-just like the first time they kissed-and he caresses his mates cheek, falling in love all over again.

 

Bruce looks around at his family, and pulls Clark closer to him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

 

He looks out at the bay, and the water ripples and sparkles beautifully- but he doesn’t yearn for the sea the way he used to. The sea might have been his home, but home is where the heart is, and his heart belongs right next to him, in the hands of his own sea, his everything, his sailor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say special thanks to the artists who did amazing fanart for this fic, and you guys should check out their blogs!!!
> 
> The Dick x Wally was done by @officerbananaartist on Tumblr and you can see their blog [here](https://officerbananaartist.tumblr.com/) and take a look at the piece in chapter 17!
> 
> The feral Bruce was done by @tiger-quollsartblog on Tumblr, and you can see their blog [here](http://tiger-quollsartblog.tumblr.com/) and take a look at the piece in chapter 4!
> 
> The sea creatures montage was done by @hannalu-art on Tumblr, and you can see their blog [here](https://hannalu-art.tumblr.com/) and take a look at the piece in chapter 9!
> 
> Drop some comments,and enjoy the holiday season (or whatever awesome celebrations or lack thereof you do :P) ❤️️


End file.
